Ever In Our Favor
by croatoanwholock
Summary: What if Katniss was the one reaped instead of Prim? Would she still be a symbol for the revolution, or just another tribute? (T for now, may be switched to M). Possible Katniss/Finnick later on.
1. In The Beginning

**A/N:** Hey there! I haven't written in a while for a handful of reasons, but mostly I just lost interest. I was writing but it didn't have that passion that I felt it deserved. I went to see Mockingjay, and that passion came back. Will this be Katniss/Finnick? Maybe. I don't know if it's going to be romantic at all. The Hunger Games was never a love story, and I'd hate to reduce it to that. Also this is completely un-beta'd so excuse any grammatical errors!

As always, all legal rights etc. go to Suzanne Collins/Lionsgate/whomever.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen!"

I laugh. It's a hollow, sarcastic choked sound. Someone wet trickles down my cheek. My entire body throbs in pain.

I'm alive. _Am I alive?_

* * *

My name was entered in this year more times than I'd like to count. Tessarae, as disgusting as it felt to put my name down for it, helped put food on the table. And if I wrote my name down an extra time to deliver a bag to Hawthornes, Gale wouldn't have to know.

Nobody was surprised when Effie Trinket enthusiastically called out "Katniss Everdeen". I was just another Seam girl, walking to her death. I had no illusions that I would be different. District 12's had only had two victors, ever. And it's not like Haymitch Abernathy is in all that great of a state. Dying didn't seem like the worst thing to me.

The boy reaped was a twelve year old from the nicer part of town. Blond hair and pale skin, everyone would feel bad for him. He would be dead within a day. At least I knew how to hunt.

I didn't fully realize the consequences of my situation until Prim and my mother came running in. They were both crying. I knew I couldn't just accept my fate. This would hurt my family. We already barely scraped by – there's no way they could actually eat if I wasn't around to hunt and trade. Gale wouldn't be able to pick up the slack, especially with him going into the mines next year after the harvest season.

"You have to win," Prim begged.

"I know."

I didn't have enough time to say my goodbyes. A part of me wondered if they did that on purpose. There was no point wasting my time trying to figure out why anyone did anything. I doubt there was any reason to the Capitol masterminds' plans. If there was, it was definitely lost on me.

The peacekeepers had to carry Prim out.

Madge didn't come see me. I didn't blame her – she was never very good with goodbyes.

I peered outside of the door to my waiting room. It vaguely crossed my mind that the chair in the corner is more expensive than my entire house. Somehow, the district could afford that luxury for someone who wouldn't ever sit in it again. Just when I thought that nobody else would come in to see me, the door creaked open. _Gale. _I barely registered that my legs were moving towards him until I found myself crashing into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and I let out a choked sob. He stroked my hair in an attempt to comfort me.

"Shh, shh. Katniss, it's going to be fine," Gale promised, his voice a low whisper.

I blubbered into his shirt. A part of me remembered that this was his one nice Reaping shirt, and that I should have tried to not get snot on it.

"You know how to hunt."

"Animals, not people!"

"It's all the same thing." Somehow, I don't recognize him. The Gale I knew – I thought I knew – wouldn't even suggest doing something like that. "It's going to be okay, Katniss."

I sniffled and wiped my nose on my hand. "You need to promise to take care of Prim. Prim and my mother. Don't let them take anything from the district – it's not worth it. I can't let her zone out again. She has to take care of my sister. And if she can't you have to-"

Gale cut me off with a kiss. Our first. I never thought of us that way, but it made sense. His mouth was warm. Much like the rest of him, it felt so familiar to me. I wondered how long that had been building up. I wondered if there could have ever been an "us". Oh well.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"I hope so." I half-smiled, tracing the pad of my thumb over my bottom lip.

* * *

Before that day, I had never been in a car. The unpaved gravel roads all over 12 had never bothered me before. But sitting there, bouncing up and down, I felt nauseous. The boy next to me – I wasn't sure if he was my teammate or opponent – sniffled. He was crying. Effie Trinket didn't even stop talking to notice. I squeezed his arm, half-smiling.

"I'm Katniss."

He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter."

I bit my tongue. "What's your name?"

"Tom."

It seemed that Effie noticed I had spoken four whole words to Tom. She perked up immensely. "Aw, you two are getting chummy already! I like you much more than the last ones, they _never _talked. How boring! You two are going to love the Capitol, it's _ah-mazing_. And don't get me started on the train ride there. Two hundred miles an hour and you could balance a glass of water on the table. It's so smooth. Nothing like this… automobile."

I decided that I really don't like Effie Trinket. Her complete ignorance of well, everything made no sense to me. She experienced the deaths of tributes every year. Yet somehow, she acted completely unfazed, and even _excited_ about each Games. For the past five or six years she had been coming to 12 as an Escort, she had only gotpeppier. I had to bite down on my lip for the rest of the ride to prevent myself from saying something rude.

Effie wasn't wrong about the train. It was nice, but that didn't mean I liked it. The luxury of a week's worth of food on a table at one time made me feel sick. People had so much while we had gone with so little. The temperature of the car was changed with a push of a button, and there were people to bring me food if I didn't feel like walking to the table or the car over. Everything reminded me of Madge's house. Overly expensive. Unnecessary.

* * *

We never talk about the 50th Hunger Games. That specific Quarter Quell had a death count of forty-seven, and it was the second Games to be won by someone from 12. Haymitch Abernathy never left his house in the Victor's Village, except to frequent the liquor tables at the Hob. Once or twice, I saw him over for tea with Madge's mother, when she was feeling better. Outside of that, the only time he was ever in public was when he had to watch the reaping. He was old and miserable.

From what little I knew about my mentor-to-be, I was hardly surprised when he stumbled into the car Tom and I were sitting in. He grunted in our general direction, and vomited into a bucket.

"Drink," he mumbled in Effie's direction.

"We don't have any ice," she gave him a tight lipped smile, motioning to the bucket in his hands. "Besides, isn't it a bit early to be drunk?"

Haymitch sighed deeply, and pushed a button, dimming the lights. "You can't expect me to deal with you sober, _darling_. Well let's have a look at the fresh meat."

"Hello, I'm Thomas, but you can call me Tom-"

Haymitch cut him off. "Sit down, kid. Look, I'm gonna be honest. You ain't gonna last a week out there. You should enjoy the food, and write a letter to your family saying bye if you've got something to say."

Tom slumped over. His face fell, but I felt my anger rise. I stood up angrily. The rational part of my mind told me that I needed to be on good terms with this man, that he was the only chance I had at possibly surviving. But I ignored that. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Well that's no way for a _lady_ to act, sweetheart. Don't worry, you'll be just as dead as your friend here…" Haymitch trailed off, and then flicked on the light, wincing. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"The Hob."

"Oh shit, you're the turkey girl, aren't ya?"

I nodded. Haymitch muttered something to himself. "Looks like we've got ourselves a hunter, yeah? Well, why don't we see who our competition is?"

Tom went straight to his room, slamming the car door.

I couldn't help but feel bad for him. Even though me winning would mean his death, Haymitch was just hurtful. "That wasn't very nice of you."

"I've done this twenty-three times, and by the third, I could tell if anyone was worth the effort. That one sure isn't, but you might be, sweetheart."

Effie got Tom out of his room an hour later. We all sat down in the television car and watched the recordings of the other district's reapings.

The other tributes were terrifying. The Careers were brutal-looking and still, somehow beautiful. Besides them, only a few other people caught my eye – a strange looking girl from 5, and a girl from 11. She looked like she had to have only been twelve. She looked nothing like Prim, yet somehow reminded me of her. I felt bile rise in my throat. _I may never see Prim again_.

* * *

Following Haymitch's advice in the Capitol took extreme willpower. For the first two days of training, I went to every station _but_ the weapons, and it killed me. I watched from the camouflage station while spears were thrown, and bit my tongue while throwing knives struck down mannequins. I almost let out a snarl when the girl from 1 tried to use the bow. That was _mine_. But it was all worth it when I got that training score of 11. Even though it put a giant target on my head, it made me possibly worth investments from sponsors, Haymitch explained.

Tom got a 7 and left his three-course meal untouched.

"Both of you, we need to work on your interview strategies. Any ideas?"

"I'm smart." Tom said, shrugging. I noticed that he shrugged a lot. "I could _act_ smart. I guess."

Haymitch nodded. "That could work kid. And you, any ideas?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, you're not flirty so we can't play up the sexy angle. You can't be yourself, because _that_ would scare anyone with half a wit off. Effie, any suggestions?"

Effie, hearing her name being called, put down her neon green drink and teetered over. I doubt I would ever understand how she was able to walk on those. Today, her hair, lipstick, and dress were all bright green, and the way it contrasted to her tinted pink skin vaguely reminded me of a watermelon. She took a long look at me and pursed her lips.

"Well, you _are _kind of funny." Effie thought out loud. She scratched her chin with a long, claw-like nail. "Yes, yes you are."

"Thank you, Effie. Apparently she _is_ useful for something. Who'd have known?" Haymitch sneered. I had a hard time telling if the animosity between them was actual dislike, or some twisted type of flirting.

In the course of my three-minute interview, I became somewhat of a style icon. The braid I wore my hair in at the reaping has been seen _all over _Panem, according to Caesar. My stylist, Cinna, has been booked up for the next seventeen months. And _the_ most prestigious fashion company in the Capitol wanted me as a model, contingent on if I survived, of course. Apparently my body type of "frequently starved" is something desired by women in the Capitol.

"Well, I doubt I'll be able to stay this thin if I keep eating all this amazing food!" I gushed, making most of the audience laugh. It took an inhuman amount of willpower to not roll my eyes or something bitter.

"Well Katniss, my dear friend. I was told that you have a special surprise for us tonight!"

That was my cue. I stood up carefully, wobbling a bit in my shoes. "Well, I know how much you _ah-dore_ my outfits. So my amazing stylist Cinna put together something extra special for you all tonight!"

I spun around carefully, letting my dress fan out around my legs. I watched as the flames licked my calves, and I didn't even feel a burn. The crowd went absolutely wild. I barely heard the buzzer go off over the sound of the cheering.

Caesar Flickerman grabbed my hand in his and raised them up above our heads. "Ladies and gentlemen, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!"

The jealous glare I received from the girl from 2 would usually make me laugh, but I had the feeling she would try and slit my throat.

* * *

The games were nothing like I ever could have expected, and they turned me into someone I never thought I could be. The first day, I was fine. I had my small pack with some supplies, and I was able to find water. I made shelter in a tree at nightfall and watched the faces of the fallen tributes light up the night sky.

The bloodbath had been exactly that: ten dead at the end of day one. Tom was still alive.

After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to fall into a restless sleep.

I woke up feeling beads of sweat drip my forehead. I sat up abruptly, almost falling off my branch. The sky wasn't red with sunrise, but with rather fire surrounding me.

I started running.

Flames followed me wherever I ran, tendrils of smoke trailing close behind as well. The further I ran, it seemed, the closer they were to surrounding me. I felt something rise up my left leg, and a part of me knew I was on fire, but the adrenaline and my fear made it painless for the moment. _The Girl on Fire was quite literally burning. _Even I could appreciate the irony.

I finally reached water, and my mind finally caught up to my body. I howled in pain, knowing I wouldn't be heard. Anyone around me must have been dead for a long time. I tried to clean out the wound, but it was too sensitive. I settled for ripping half of my sleeve off and tying it around the burnt area. The majority of my thigh was burnt. In one section, I thought I could see bone, but I knew that couldn't be possible. It must have been an overreaction from the trauma. I could still walk, but barely. I was moving, and that was all that mattered.

I hobbled along for another hour or so. When I couldn't bear to move another foot, I sat down under a tree. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

I woke up to the feeling of someone leaning over me. I startled up, surprised to find the girl from 11 sitting at my side.

"I was wondering when you were gonna wake up." She smiled at me. I noticed the green plant smeared all over my my leg. "You got a sponsor. Someone thinks you're worth a lot."

I was a little taken aback. "Thanks. I'm Katniss."

"Rue," she stuck out her tiny hand, "allies?"

"Allies."

Rue and I made a good team. She watched my back and made shelter while I found game. I was able to get a small bird that we shared. It was clear she never ate like this at home.

"Where'd you learn to use that?" Rue asked, mouth full of meat.

"My father taught me a long time ago." I put down the rest of my leg and held it out to her. "You hungry?"

She shook her head but I insisted.

That night, the fourth night, there were ten of us left: both tributes from 1 and 2, the boy from 4, the girl from 5, Rue and the boy from 11, and Tom and I. I was surprised he was still around. We knew that it had been too slow in terms of deaths, and that things would get mixed up soon.

We came up with a plan.

The Career Pack – both tributes from 1 and 2 and the boy from 4 – had set up camp right at the Cornucopia, with a large pile of stuff surrounded by bombs. I would waste one of my arrows and blow up the stash.

The next morning, we went to put this into action. It went great, and the blast killed the boy from 4. It was probably less painful than the fate he would have endured, had the rest of the careers seen what had happened to their supplies. But Rue hadn't lit the third fire. _Where was she?_

I ran and ran, and when I reached her, it was too late. The boy from 1 was taking his spear out of Rue's stomach. Her shirt was stained with red.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I had released an arrow right into his heart. I learned later that his name was Marvel. Not that it made it any easier.

I held Rue as she died.

I wept for her long after her body was taken out.

Four faces were in the sky that night: Marvel, the boy from 4, the girl from 5, and Rue. Three of those deaths were my fault. Six tributes left. They would start interviewing my family and friends back home. What would they say to my mother, to Prim, to Madge, to Gale? Would they be proud of me?

I went to bathe in the stream, and I noticed the too-familiar signs of infection on my leg. My wound had festered. I prayed that Haymitch would cut a deal with some sponsor. I could easily survive to the end, to die abruptly from this. Everything would be for nothing.

That morning at sunrise, clearly the Gamemakers noticed. There was to be a feast at the Cornucopia. Something for each of the six tributes, something they all needed. I was positive my medicine would be there. But everyone knew what the feast really was – a chance to get people together to get their stuff. I had no choice, and made my way to the Cornucopia.

I stood by the tree line, waiting to see if anyone would get his or her pack. I saw the small orange bag with '12' written on it.

The girl from 1 came out of the woods and into the clearing. She was alone. She grabbed her pack and looked around tentatively. She swiped my bag as well. _No! _I ran out of the bushes and right towards her, ignoring the possibility that she would have allies waiting to back her up. She took out a long knife. She definitely had more experience. I couldn't get that close.

"Just give me what I need, and I won't hurt you." I told her, acting self-assured.

"Not a chance, twelve."

She lunged towards me, and I took a leap backwards, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. She was waving her knife around crazily. I knew that she would end up slashing me. I managed to get an arrow out and fire it into her leg. She fell to the ground. I took her knife out of her hand and stabbed her in the chest. I took out the arrow too. I only had a few left.

The only thing in her pack was a canteen of water and some dried fruit.

I didn't notice the girl from 2 coming up behind me until I was flat on my back. I felt the cool metal of her knife on my throat, and I knew it was over.

"Thanks for killing the bitch for me, I couldn't stand her." The girl from 2 sneered. I was very aware that I had no idea what was going on. "I don't like you, Twelve. But I do appreciate that you got my dirty work out of the way for me. So I'll promise to kill you quick."

She pushed the knife down on my throat, and I felt my blood trickle down my neck. It was warm and wet, and it took a lot of effort to stay still.

"On second thought, I think we could have a lot of fun together, you and me. What do you say, Twelve? I think I'm gonna take my time-"

The girl from 2 was cut off with a loud thud. I see the boy from 11, Thresh, standing over me. I was petrified. He smashed her head in with a rock at least ten times. The canon fired after the second hit. I put my hands up in defense.

"Just this once, for Rue." Thresh warned. He took her pack and his, and he ran back into the forest.

I ran out of the cornucopia faster than I had ever run from anything in my life.

After I was sure I was alone, I allowed myself to treat my leg.

At the end of the night, there were four of us left. Thresh, Tom, myself, and the boy from 2_. How was Tom still alive?_ I had no choice but to lay low.

Three days passed and no one died.

At some point during the night, I awoke to the sound of footsteps. But these didn't belong to a person; it must have been a group of wild animals. Someone told me about stampedes once. I had a feeling this was something similar. Except to this point, I hadn't encountered any large animals in the arena before. Or even tracks, for that matter. The Gamemakers must have placed these here. I heard a loud howl, and I saw Thresh's face light up the sky. I felt upset for someone who I barely knew. He deserved to win more than any of us else. He seemed… good. I only hoped his death was painless.

I didn't have time to mourn. The stampede was coming towards me.

I jumped out of the tree and started running. The only thing I had on me was my smallest pack, my bow and arrows, and the knife I took from the girl from 1. I had a feeling I wouldn't be going back for the rest of the stuff. Not that it mattered. The Games would most likely end tonight.

I knew that the dog-like animals were getting closer. I was too scared to look at them, but I could just _tell_ they were mutts. No wild animal I had ever encountered had had that much force. I found heading towards the Cornucopia. _Of course_, they would want to draw us out in the open. I found energy I didn't know I had and climbed up on top of the Cornucopia. I was greeted by Tom. He was sitting up there calmly twirling a scythe. Neither of us noticed the boy from 2 until he had his knife around Tom. Tom was quick though, and he drove the curved end of his scythe into the tribute's gut and pushed him off the structure.

I made a choked noise. That was unexpected. "Wow."

"All of you underestimated me. You all thought that I was gangly, useless waste of time. My own mother expected me to die. Well _this_ waste of time has made it pretty far, hasn't he?"

"Tom…" I took a step away from him tentatively.

"Don't _Tom_ me. You're not my friend! You don't know me! Nobody gives a shit about me. None of my brothers volunteered for me, even though some of them probably could have actually done well. But I've made it this far, don't think I'm just gonna lay down my weapons and let you win."

I nodded. "So how do you wanna do this?"

His blond eyebrows furrowed. Tom threw his weapon off the Cornucopia. "Hand-to-hand. We'll do this like real men… or real women in your case."

I was surprised by the pure amount of hatred in his voice. I knew one of us was going to die, but the attitude I had gotten from some of the other tributes was almost reluctance. I had known a few girls back in Twelve who had liked to tease me. But petty teenage drama had nothing on this. _What had I ever done to him?_ I realized he had just told me. It wasn't something I had done, per se. He simply wanted to prove himself. And I could get that. I understood what it was like to not be taken seriously.

I reluctantly put down my bow and took my sheath of arrows off my shoulder. The knife was still tucked into a pocket in my coat, and I pretended to not notice it.

I sighed. "Deal."

He took the first swing. His hand barely grazed my jaw, and I exhaled loudly. We each got a few punches in. He ended up doing something to my right arm that words can't describe. It felt like it wasn't even attached to my torso anymore, and when I moved it, it felt like fire. I knew that I was going to lose. I kicked him in between the legs. It wasn't elegant or fair, really. It was what it was. He crumpled to the ground. I guess Gale wasn't exaggerating when he said how much that hurt. I took the knife from my pocket using my left hand, and drove it through his heart.

The cannon went off. I closed his eyelids with my fingers. "Sorry, Tom." I really was.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my hair was down. The last thing I remembered was seeing the helicraft appear above my head. But here I am, in my bed in the Training Center, scrubbed clean of all the dirt and dried blood. My arm feels better, but the pain is definitely still there. It's nothing I can't deal with.

All the memories of the past week come rushing back to me. I feel like I can't catch my breath. I might as well be running from those flames or have a knife on my throat.

My leg is completely healed. Capitol doctors made new skin to replace the huge patch of my leg that would have been forever scarred. My arm had to be "popped back in". I don't know that that really means, and I'm not sure that I want to. Medical things and injuries in general make me squeamish. I never had the stomach for it like my mother or sister.

The door swings open. My first instinct is to grab some type of weapon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Haymitch puts his hands up. "Nobody's gonna hurt you, Sweetheart."

Haymitch sits down on the corner of my bed. I prop up a pillow behind me and pull the blanket over my chest. I didn't notice that I was completely nude until Haymitch walked in. "How long was I asleep?"

"Just a little over three hours. They have medicine that helps you recover in no time, so you don't need to make up on all of the lost sleep."

I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is seriously wrong. "What now?"

"We're going to have dinner in a few hours and then you'll have to get ready for your interview with Caesar. Effie has the _exact_ schedule but I didn't think you cared about it that much."

He misunderstands me. "I don't mean for the rest of the day. I mean for the rest of, well, my life."

I don't have any more school to attend, and I'll have so much money that I'll never need a job ever. What will I do to pass the time all day?

He exhales and pushes the call button. An avox shows up a few seconds later.

"Uh, get me something strong on ice. And a vodka soda for her," Haymitch orders. She nods and scampers off. I'm about to protest but Haymitch doesn't let me get a word in. "I'm going to explain everything, and I don't want you to cut me off until I'm done. Save all the questions for the end, okay? And believe me sweetheart, you're gonna _need_ a drink for this."

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you like it so far! All constructive criticism is appreciated! And as always, feel free to shoot me a PM.


	2. Homecoming

**A/N:** So this is probably going to be Katniss/Finnick, because that's what I'm good at writing (read: obsessed with). But I'm not bringing Finnick in for a bit, so don't expect that for a few chapters.  
Anyways, here's chapter 2 and enjoy!

* * *

The avox returns with our drinks a few moments later. She places the tray on the table and bows her head politely. I make eye contact with her for a split second. She looks like she has something to say, but she scampers back off as quickly as she came. I wonder what that must be like – not being able to speak. It must be terrible. I can't even imagine being trapped inside my mind like that. It really is the worst punishment I could imagine.

Haymitch takes a sip from his drink and slams it back down, brown liquid sloshing up and down the sides of the asymmetrical glass. He reaches under the control panel for the window. The lights flicker and I hear a low-pitched beep.

"We only have a few minutes without them listening in. I'm gonna get straight to it."

I shrug. I have no idea what to expect. My drink tastes unpleasant and burns my throat. I _really _don't like alcohol. However, the warming sensation that spreads across my stomach and all throughout my torso isn't at all terrible.

"You're not done here, Katniss. You know that you will have to mentor, and you'll probably have to go to important Capitol events. That's… doable. You'll get used to that quickly. But there's other things that will _probably_ be asked of you."

"Like what?"

Haymitch scowls at me. He _did_ ask that I don't interrupt him. He continues like I never interrupted in the first place. "You? I'm not quite sure yet. But I promise you that you won't like it, sweetheart. Frankly, it doesn't even matter how you feel about it. You need to suck it up and accept the fact that this is your life. Sure, you won't be reaped again, but that's meaningless. Just because they can't hurt _you_, doesn't mean they can't hurt you."

I want to ask Haymitch what happened to his family, but I know that it's not place. I sit there tight-lipped.

"You remember what happens to the Top 8, yes?"

I nod. They interview friends and family back home. _They know _who I care about, who cares about me.

Haymitch practically sees the gears turning in my head. "You get it now. They know your weakness – all of our weaknesses: loved ones."

The lights flicker back on. He mutters something incoherent.

"Can I see what they said?"

"Sure. I'll find the tapes. You wanna put some clothes on?"

I find something relatively plain – grey pants and a long tunic. I put my hair up in a loose bun. The sensation of anything on my neck makes me uneasy, and I can't quite figure out why. Haymitch and Effie are sitting down on the couch, knees touching. Effie's in all red and orange today with golden hair. It's not a natural blond like my mothers or Prim's, or an almost white like Madge's. It's the color of bright yellow like the sun or some of my mother's flowers. It hurts my eyes.

"Katniss, my dear, it is _so_ wonderful to see you alive and well!" Effie outstretches her arms and pulls me into an embrace. I hate hugs.

Effie fast-forwards through all of the other tributes until she gets to me. Caesar Flickerman and two other Capitol personalities I don't recognize are talking about me. In the top 8, the odds of me winning are one to five.

First, the camera shows some heavily edited shots of District Twelve. Only the merchant's part of town is shown, and even then, it's one or two of the nicer streets.

First up is Prim. She's wearing her reaping dress again – the only nice outfit she owns – and one of my mother's cardigans over it. She talks about how much she believes in me and how she knows I'll win because I'm so smart. I can't help but smile at seeing Prim's face. I've missed her so much in the past few weeks. But that happiness is quickly replaced by dread. Every face in Panem now knows what my biggest weakness looks like. My throat is tight.

My mother is quiet, reserved. She was always shy around strangers, except for when she was in work mode. She managed to boast about my knowledge of plants and herbs because of her work (a huge lie), and that she thinks it gives me a better chance. All of these are so _overdone._ They feel like my family is advertising me to the Capitol citizens. I guess at the time, they kind of were.

Next up is Madge. She introduces herself as my best friend. Caesar comments that yes, she _is_ the daughter of Mayor Undersee. Madge tells a cute anecdote about something that happened when we were twelve and terrified at our first reaping. It was completely made up, but she's a fantastic liar. Besides, like Madge would never have to worry about being reaped.

Gale and the other Hawthornes are all together in the last clip. Hazelle has Posy in her arms, and Vick and Rory are both half-hidden behind her and Gale. I read the text on the bottom of the screen – _The Hawthornes, _Cousins of Katniss.

"What?"

Haymitch notices my confusion. "Hazelle is now your father's sister."

I'm surprised that Haymitch is familiar with them. It _is_ a small district, so I shrug it off. "But she's _not_, why?"

He sighs. Effie looks equally confused. Of course she bought the Capitol crap.

"It's obvious you and the kid, you and _Gale_, are…" Haymitch waves his hand dismissively. It's clear what he meant though. Gale and I are romantically involved. Which isn't strictly true. I wonder if someone in the Capitol saw that kiss. "And you can't have a good looking _friend_. You need to be available, you need to be desirable."

My stomach balls up into a knot. "So you're telling me I could_ never_ be with him?"

Haymitch looks down. His lack of response is enough of an answer.

"I want to go home."

"Me too, Katniss. Me too."

I realize that that's the first time Haymitch has ever called me by my name.

Afterwards, Effie preps me for my interview. That persona I faked for three minutes is something I'm going to have to keep up with for _years_. She puts a hand on my shoulder and tilts my chin up so we're looking into each other's eyes.

"I promise you that it gets easier to put on an act," Effie tells me, her voice much quieter than I've ever heard her before. "Can I tell you a secret? I was born in the poorest part of the Capitol. I've had _such_ a hard time pretending to fit in with all the wealth here, and it's such a nice life to live. But it's clear that all the other escorts think they're above me. Do your best to fit in, but _never ever_ forget where you came from."

Haymitch calls us for dinner.

We eat in silence. Not even Effie says anything.

Halfway throughout the dinner, I put my fork down angrily. "Are we not going to talk about Tom?"

Haymitch sighs. "What do you want me to say? I don't know what happened."

"He became _lethal_. He almost killed me! Forget that, the point is you really weren't supportive of him, and you didn't even _pretend_ to care. Why couldn't you have tried harder?"

"What do you want me to say? Sorry? I made what I thought would be a strategic decision. I was wrong. It gets tiring. All of them end up dead… or worse."

"Or worse?" I ask. _What's worse than death?_

"The only thing worse than death, Katniss, is living."

* * *

Cinna made me another dress. This one is a deep purple that only covers up to my mid-thigh. I have to fight the urge to keep pulling it down. My lips are _plum-colored _(I'm not sure what a plum _is_, but it's apparently dark purple), and silver eye shadow that glitters in the light. My hair is in an intricate braid, but it's not what Capitolites have been calling the "Katniss Braid". Apparently I'm a style icon for the two weeks I've been in the eye of the media.

This interview is longer. I have to talk with Caesar for about half an hour, since there's only one tribute to talk to instead of twenty-four. I'm even more nervous than I was for the first one.

"You're going to be wonderful," Cinna assures me, "just be confident, darling."

I take a deep breath and walk out onto the stage.

Caesar Flickerman is somehow a comforting sight. I have a feeling he's much smarter than he lets on. He leads the conversation into safe territory and covers up for anything I might slip out that would be problematic.

"So, Katniss. How does it feel to have won?" Caesar asks, leaning forward. It's an easy question to start off with.

I lean back a little in the plush white chair. "Well, first off, it's an absolute honor. I know that this wouldn't have been possible without all of your support. I doubt I would have made it if I hadn't known you were all cheering me on! Right now, it's just such a relief to be able to see my friends and family again."

There are a couple _awws_. I smile a little. Caesar squints at me for a fraction of a second. He's deciding something. Then, the personality is back on. "Ah yes. Speaking of your family, who is your _cousin_? Gale, yes that was his name. He's quite the handsome young man, isn't he?"

I force a laugh. "Oh Caesar, well we _are_ related."

The audience laughs as well. It's the perfect response: bubbly and just a little stupid.

"Now, Katniss. There is one thing that _everyone _wants to know, what's next for our favorite victor?"

I have to think for a moment. I don't even know what's next for me. "Well, I think we're all going to have to wait and see. But I'm not going _anywhere_. I'll be back here for the Victory Tour in a few months, and then I'll be mentoring. I promise you that you won't have to worry about not seeing me."

Caesar and I chat for a while about the possible fashion and modeling companies that want me as their spokesperson. I do a little bit of advertising for Cinna and Portia, who are working together for a Panem Collection – clothing based on the twelve districts. It's completely stupid, and they both know it. But it's money, and stylists don't get paid much unless their tribute wins.

"One last question, Katniss." Caesar asks me. He turns to face me directly instead of facing the audience or the camera. He looks apologetic. "_Everyone_ wants to know, is there a special someone in your life? Anyone you've got your eye on?"

I realize that I actually know the answer to this question. _Gale. I'm in love with Gale._ I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I've defied every single odd, and I can't be with him because of some Capitol propaganda. It feels like an eternity passes, but it must have only been a split second. I remember what Haymitch told me: be available.

I giggle a little, and twirl the end of my braid around my finger. "Well, not really. But there are so many beautiful people in the world and I'm only sixteen! Do you really think I should have to settle down right now?"

The audience cheers. Caesar nods at me, as if to tell me that I've said the right thing. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games and Bachelorette, Katniss Everdeen!"

I'm surprised he didn't ask me about Tom.

I practically run off stage.

Effie grabs my arm to help me walk to the elevators. She of all people knows I can't walk in heels."You were wonderful, dear."

Haymitch nods at me. "Good job. Think you can keep it up for, _oh_ forty years?"

I don't think I have a choice in the matter.

* * *

The next morning is the crowning ceremony. Cinna puts me in a long, poofy dress for this. The sleeves of my dress are off my shoulders but it flares down to the floor so I'm not too exposed. It covers my feet so I don't have to wear heels. My hair is down and left alone, and I only have minimal makeup. It's such a stark contrast to what I've been wearing in the Capitol that I don't really know what to make of it. I don't like wearing this white-ish yellow color. It almost feels like a wedding dress. I can actually feel the wind on my almost clean face. I hate feeling caked in those powders and creams. I take rubbing my eyes for granted.

President Snow says a few words, and then I'm given a bouquet of flowers from someone important. Then I'm standing face-to-face with President Snow. He reeks of roses. I outstretch my arm and he shakes it. His hands are too cold, almost corpselike. He whispers to me. "You know, Miss Everdeen. You're much more beautiful in person. I can assure you that there will be much to discuss. We'll be in touch."

I don't have time to ponder what that even means.

The train leaves right after. I'm more than happy to be rid of the Capitol, at least for a little while. Effie gives me a teary-eyed goodbye speech, and I think I might miss her a little. Nobody I know back home is remotely optimistic and her cheeriness was kind of annoying, but refreshing.

As soon as we got on the train, Haymitch sat me down with him in the bar car.

"We're going to talk, sweetheart," he tells me. This is his second drink of the day, and it's not even noon yet.

"About?"

"Your future. Listen, kid, you ain't gonna like this. It _never_ gets easier. Maybe you'll find someone who they'll let you marry, you could have a kid or two – I wouldn't. Victor's kids always get picked. It makes for drama in the Capitol. Johanna Mason, from the 71st, you remember her? She was a victor's kid."

I remember Johanna. She was vicious. Her entire act terrified me. If she could be so convincing and innocent, anyone else could be as well. She murdered like nobody's business. If it wasn't so terrifying, it might have been impressive. I'm pretty sure Gale had a weird crush on her at one point. She's only three years older than him anyways. _Gale_. I'm excited to see him again. I don't know what I'll say though. I'm glad I have a day to figure it out.

I turn my attention back to Haymitch. "So what do I do? Drink all day?"

He rolls his eyes at the obvious jab at his hobbies.

"You find something to do. I don't know - fashion design, teaching, or an instrument. I have no idea. You're friends with Eliza's daughter – Madge. Why don't you see if you could do something for the mayor's office?"

"That's not a half-bad idea."

I pour myself a little bit of the brown alcohol Haymitch has. He stops me and adds some soda to it. I take a sip. It still tastes disgusting, but it's not that bad. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"At the ceremony this morning, Snow said something to me. I don't know what to make of it. He told me I was beautiful and said we'll be in touch."

Haymitch finishes his entire glass in a sip.

"What?" I ask, unsure what could cause such a reaction from him. Haymitch is always drinking, but I've never seen him down an entire glass like that before.

"So it's as bad as I thought it would be."

"Haymitch." I'm very worried now. "Give me a straight answer."

He shakes his head. "No. I'm not gonna tell you, for _your_ sake. President Snow is going to come to you at some point. It could be tomorrow; it could be two years from now. Most likely later rather than sooner, since you're so young. You have time. But when he comes to you and tells you what will be asked of you, you _have_ to do it. They'll kill your family, they'll kill your friends, hell, they'll kill anyone you've ever spoken to if you don't. This is serious. The Games aren't over."

"Will I ever be left alone?"

"You'll definitely have some time when you first get home. Take advantage of it, sweetheart."

I leave Haymitch alone for the rest of the ride home. I just lie on my bed, thinking. My life was by no means easy a month ago, but it sure was a lot simpler. I almost miss it. But I know that I'll never have to worry about starving or feeding Prim again. And that makes it almost worth it.

The train pulls into the station at dusk. At least a third of the district is waiting for me. They're all chanting my name. _Katniss, Katniss, Katniss._ The first thing I see is Prim. She's sitting on Gale's shoulders and waving. As soon as I see them, I sprint off the platform, ignoring the pain in my toes from my high heels. I have Prim in my arms and there are tears in my eyes. I know that everything will be okay. I hug my mother next. It's clear she's been crying.

I hug Gale for much longer than one would hug a friend. "They think I'm your cousin, Katniss," Gale whispers in my ear. "Let go of me. I'll come over later."

Gale never comes over.

That night we eat the best meal they've had in months. I don't have an appetite.

I can't sleep. The first two or three days after the Games, I was so medicated that I had no problem crashing. But now I'm home and it takes me way too long to fall into a restless sleep. It's almost as if I'm expecting someone to come up to me with a knife.

The nightmares are the worst. I dream I'm back in the arena. I can't stop seeing the faces of the people I've killed. The worst part is, I learned their names. The boy from 1, Marvel, the girl from 1, Glimmer, the boy from 4, Chris, and of course, Tom. I feel responsible for Rue as well. I didn't realize I was screaming until Prim shook me awake.

At daybreak, I snuck into the woods to find my usual spot. I sat by the water, hoping Gale would show up. Time passed. It may have only been minutes, or it could have been hours. I'm not sure. But eventually I looked over and he was sitting next to me.

"Hey, Catnip." He used my nickname. He hasn't called me that in such a long time.

I'm pretty sure I started laughing and crying at the same time. I never cry.

Gale strokes my hair soothingly. "Shh, calm down. It's okay. You're home, you're safe now."

I just shake my head. He has no idea.

"I missed you."

I explain some of it to Gale. I tell him that the Capitol needed me to appear available in order to raise support for me in the arena. I didn't say what I was beginning to suspect: that I would be forced to socialize with the Capitol elite, maybe even marry one of them at some point. Haymitch told me most victors don't marry and have children, but the ones who do usually do so with other victors. Not many other people understand the trauma of it. I don't fully understand it myself.

"So what about… _this_?" Gale asks, pointing at himself and then me.

I finally understood what Madge had always told me about. That fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach, wanting nothing more than to spend every minute with them, and always thinking of them when you weren't together. I think I'm in love with Gale. I mean I've always known that I've loved him, but the question always was, in what way? Never in my life have I ever wanted to kiss someone more than I want to kiss him in this exact moment. But something stops me. When did I become _that girl_, the one who pined over boys and only wanted their affections? I always despised them.

I force myself to stop thinking and answer his question. "I don't know, Gale. What do _you_ want?"

"You."

Gale kisses me again. I'm not caught off-guard by our actions like last time, so I enjoy it a lot more. But still, a part of me feels like I'm going to regret this. I know that I could never _fully_ be with him, and it almost seems unfair to try to have anything with him.

Gale's always been so good at reading me. He pulls away and takes my cheeks in his hands. "If you don't want this, it's okay Katniss."

"I do, I just…"

"The future is the future. We don't have to worry about that right now."

A part of me wants to be logical about this, wants to think out every course of action and weigh my options. But that would take far too long, and Gale's looking at me expectantly. I know – somewhere deep, deep down I know – that this will only end badly. But I feel almost invincible. I feel like I am _safe. _And I want this… whatever this is.

"To hell with it," I mutter as I bring our lips together once more.

I don't want to deal with the future just yet.

* * *

**A/N:** Let me know what you think! It would mean the world to me if you reviewed!


	3. Consequences

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated. I've been on break and away from my computer. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

I don't think I realized the consequences of what I did that day in the woods with Gale until three weeks later. I was out all day, hunting, as usual. When I stumbled in at sunset, I was surprised to see Prim not in the main room of our home, but instead my mother. She clearly didn't hear me come in, and neither did her guest. From the way she's sitting at the table with a cup of herbal tea, it's clear that whoever she's with isn't a patient. I stay behind the wall, listening in.

"Please, Ivy. You have to believe me when I say that-" I'd recognize that's voice anywhere. That's Haymitch! _What is he doing here?_ And I've never actually heard anyone refer to my mother by her first name. Everyone, except maybe Hazelle, always calls her Ms. Everdeen, or Ma'am.

"I don't care if it's unintentional, Haymitch. She's my daughter, and she's been through too much already. It's up to you to make sure that she doesn't end up like you… or worse."

I can practically see the look of disdain on my mentor's face. "Twenty-five years and it doesn't get any better. I get it enough from _myself._ I really don't need it from you. But she's stronger than me. And she has more to lose."

"I know that it wasn't your fault, but we could never forgive you for what happened with Maysillee. I know that it wasn't you who killed her - I know that and so does Eliza. But for us… to have to see you walking around, alive and well, and not her? It's… heartbreaking. And with the Quell coming up again in a few months, the focus is going to be on Twelve, since we've won _both_ of them. I need you to take care of her."

"You're her parent, Ivy."

My mother laughs. It's a heartbroken, hollow sound. "I'm a poor excuse for that."

I close the door loudly to make my presence known. Haymitch smirks when I come in, stomping my feet loudly.

"Haymitch." I say, trying to act surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He looks almost bored. I usually have a pretty good read on Haymitch but I'm coming up blank right now. "How much did you hear, sweetheart?"

"Not much," I lie. Feeling the heat flush in my cheeks, I add, "so _Ivy_, I didn't realize you were friends with Haymitch."

Haymitch guffaws. "Your mother and I go way back. It's a small district."

Something about the way he says that makes me very uncomfortable. I'm having a hard time picturing my mother's life before myself or Prim, when she wasn't my mother but rather _Ivy Everdeen_. There was a time when she wasn't even an Everdeen.

"Do you think it's time you told her about what happened after the fiftieth?" my mother asks Haymitch.

My mentor sighs. "Might as well. Ivy, d'ya mind giving us a moment?"

My mother stands up and scampers into the bedroom.

"I know that look on your face. No, I was never involved with your mother."

I exhale in relief. I didn't even realize that's what I was worried about.

"I know 'bout you and the Hawthorne boy. You two've been sneaking around for weeks. You need to cut that out now. If you really care about him, you'll leave him alone."

My mother reappears as quickly as she left. The one thing I have in common with her is how quiet we walk. I never notice her coming or going unless I see it. She twists her wedding ring on her finger – a habit she does whenever she's anxious.

"Do you know how I won my Games, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks. He pulls an unopened bottle alcohol out of his coat slung over a kitchen chair.

I shake my head. All I know is what the schools tell us: Haymitch Abernathy was the winner of the 2nd Quarter Quell, and the only living Victor from 12. Besides me, now.

"Well, the arena for the Quell was huge. Double the tributes, double the space I assume. But it didn't go on forever. There was a gigantic force field disguised as the edge of a cliff. Hunger Games stuff ensued, yadda yadda yadda. If you want the gory details, wait until they replay it everywhere in a few months."

My mother pours herself a little of Haymitch's alcohol. She's the same age as him, so she probably knew some of the other tributes.

"Who's Maysillee?" I ask.

My mother takes a long sip from her mug. "Madge's mother Eliza used to have a twin sister."

"Used to?"

This time, Haymitch answers. "She was reaped as well in the Quell." The _and died_ doesn't need to be said.

I don't know what to say. Luckily, nobody expects an answer from me.

"Anyways, the final two were me and this girl from One. She was _scary_. I mean she must've been your sister's height, but she was all muscle, and damn could she swing an axe. We each got a few hits in, and I knifed her right eye out. She got me pretty good too."

Haymitch lifts up his sweater and undershirt, revealing a slightly paunch stomach. I notice is the jagged white crisscrosses along his torso. I can't even fathom the amount of damage she must have done to make it so the Capitol doctors couldn't easily fix it.

My mother purses her lips. "You should be applying the cream I gave you."

"I don't care if it's scarred, does it look like I'm going to be modeling anytime soon?" Haymitch responds bitterly. It's a bit too harsh and even he realizes it, so he gives her an apologetic look. My mother seems unfazed. She deals with rudeness from patients and their families all the time. 'It's hard to see someone you love in pain,' she would always tell me.

"How did that _not_ kill you?" I ask.

"So there I was, barely standing, my guts in one hand and a knife in the other. She threw her axe and it went off the cliff. Having only one eye throws off your aim, you'd expect. She was so relieved. I was _done for_. But that axe came right back 'cause of the forcefield, and I was smart enough to duck it." Haymitch chuckles. It's almost too perfect for him – he won by outsmarting everyone else.

It's a good story to know, and it puts together a lot of the questions I had about my mentor. But I still don't understand why he felt the need to tell me this.

"They – the Gamemakers and Snow, that is – weren't very happy with this. So to teach me a lesson, they executed my mother, brother, and girlfriend."

My breath catches in my throat. I can almost see it happening – my mother, Prim, and Gale lined up in the town square in front of a squad of Peacekeepers. I would never be able to live with myself.

"Haymitch, I…" I find myself wanting to apologize.

"Don't apologize to me, girl." Haymitch grumbles. His moment of vulnerability is over as quickly as it started. He looks at me, confusion in his eyes. I have a feeling he's really looking at me for the first time. I want to ask him what he's thinking about, but a part of me doesn't want to know. I've found that the more I know, the more I have to worry about, and there's already too much on my shoulders.

My mother speaks again. "The reason we felt you should know this is so you're careful. Not for my own sake, or even for your sister's, but for you."

* * *

When Gale and I see other, it's only as friends. It's safer that way for the both of us, but a part of me still aches for him. What we did in the woods was... there aren't any words for it. I almost wish I had never experienced it, so I wouldn't know what I'm missing. The older boys from school always had a rude name for it, but it seems too harsh for something that natural.

A month later, I've finished moving everything into my house in the Victors Village. It's exorbitant – marble floors and large windows and heating. I can have hot or cold water at the twist of a knob, and I even have a shower. There are separate bedrooms for Prim, my mother, and me. There's also a study, three bathrooms, a kitchen, sitting room, dining room, and two other bedrooms. This is _tiny_ by Capitol standards – but it's one of the nicest things I've ever seen.

I come into the house one day, expecting to find my mother and Prim. What I'm greeted with is absolutely unexpected. Three official-looking Capitol people are sitting at the table with my sister. My mother is giving them tea. They all fall silent when they see me.

"Katniss, darling," my mother greets me warmly and kisses my cheek, "how was your walk?"

My mother knows very well that I was at the Hob, trading my game from yesterday. The coins in my left jacket pocket feel heavy against my body. I'm not sure who these people are, but I _do_ know that I have to act the part. My face breaks out into a wide smile, as if I'm just noticing their presence.

"Hello there," I smile brightly, bowing my head in the formal Capitol greeting. I do a small curtsy, which looks ridiculous in my pants and boots. "I'm sorry, I would have come home sooner if I had known guests were coming over. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Please, Miss Everdeen. Spare me the flattery." A woman says, her face cold and stoic. She guides me upstairs, high heels clicking on the floor, and refuses to answer any of my questions. I feel like a guest in my own home. No, an intruder. It's very clear that while the house in the Victors Village was a gift to me, it's not mine.

When I reach the top of the spiral staircase, the smell of roses hits me. I bury my nose in my scarf, trying not to cough. I'm struck with terror as I realize that the _owner_ of that scent can only be one person.

President Snow is in my room.

He's sitting at my desk, leaning back on the chair that has _my father's jacket_ on it. From the way he's sitting, it's clear he's been there for a while. He shoots the woman (his assistant of some sort, I assume) a dismissive look, and she scampers away.

"President Snow," I say, bowing politely.

He points to the chair by my bed.

"Sit."

I try to remain as calm as possible, but I doubt my acting is close to believable, if the hint of a smirk on his face means anything.

The president turns his chair so we're sitting face-to-face. "There is something you need to understand, Miss Everdeen. I am not your enemy. I do not _want _to hurt children – all I want to is maintain the fragile peace our great nation of Panem has struggled to achieve."

I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from screaming. _Having children kill each other is the opposite of being peaceful._ I nod my head slightly, an indication that I'm listening.

Snow looks at me like he's looking _through_ me. It's unnerving, to say the least. "I have one request. Can we please agree to not lie to each other?"

Words don't come to my mouth, so I just nod. I manage to stutter out a "that seems fair."

"Do you know why I came here today?" Snow asks, taking a sip of his tea. He blots his mouth with a tissue, and I notice the droplets of red that stain his handkerchief.

"Haymitch told me you would come at one point or another." I say. It's not a lie technically. I doubt my ability to pull of a lie under any circumstance, but especially here.

He chuckles at that. "Abernathy. I always hated _that one_. He was too smart for his own good, still is. But that is not was I asked you. Do you why I'm here, specifically, now?"

I suck in a sharp breath. "Does it have something to do with… Gale and I?"

President Snow's lip curls up in some semblance of a smile. It's terrifying. He claps slowly. "Good job, Miss Everdeen. I didn't take you for a fool, and I was correct."

I frown. That can't mean anything good.

"Your relationship with the Hawthorne boy is over as of now. As a courtesy and a measure of good faith, I won't kill him. Yet."

"Thank you." I say. _Yet. _I'm boiling with anger on the inside, but I have to keep it hidden.

"I come to you today, not as an adult to reprimand you for your behaviors, but as a _partner_ of sorts. Recently, business opportunities have come to my attention. These can be mutually beneficial."

"What kinds of opportunities exactly?" I ask. It's not really like I have a choice in cooperating. I'll have to do whatever he expects of me.

"Miss Everdeen, you're a beautiful young women. Many individuals in the Capitol... many wealthy, influential individuals find this to be true. You're _appealing_ to them, and they would like to meet you in the flesh."

I shiver. His choice of words makes me uncomfortable. "I'm not quire sure what you're asking of me."

"Once a month, for a week, you will be living in an apartment in the Capitol. During this week, you will be obligated to spend time with whomever is the highest bidder. This might be a nice luncheon, or perhaps something more… intimate." Snow waves his hand dismissively, "No matter. Seeing as your virginity is no longer on the table, I believe this won't be entirely unpleasant."

My stomach drops. I finally understand the implications of what I will be forced to do, why Haymitch was so worried. I'm reminded of the girls, only a few years older than myself, who had to spend nights in Peacekeepers' cabins in exchange for a loaf of bread or some meat. That could have been me. I suppose, in a sense, that is me now.

"Why are you making me do this?"

Snow smiles a sadistic grin. There's something especially terrifying about that wicked smile. He has too many teeth for his mouth, and the gaps between the too-white bones are filled with streaks of red. _What is wrong with him?_

He _tsks. _"Oh, Miss Everdeen. I thought you were smart. The reason I'm doing this, _Katniss_, is simply because I can."

As soon is Snow is out the door, I'm running out almost right behind him. My mother doesn't even have the chance to ask me why the President of Panem was in our house, let alone in District 12 or out of the Capitol.

I'm running but I don't know where I'm going. I can't go to Gale – how am I supposed to tell him that we can't be together at all? My mother and Prim are out of the question, and what could Madge possibly say to comfort me? I don't know where to go but my feet bring me to Haymitch's doorstep.

The door's slightly ajar, as if he knew that I'd be coming. More probably, he just was too lazy to close it.

I walk in to a house identical to my own, but I don't recognize it. There's clutter over nearly every surface, and the entire house reeks of alcohol and vomit. I have to bury my face in my scarf to keep from gagging.

Haymitch is asleep at the kitchen table, snoring over a bottle of clear alcohol in his lap.

"Haymitch." I say, keeping my distance. He grumbles and swings his head up, almost falling out of his chair. He swishes the alcohol bottle around violently, spilling all over his soiled undershirt.

He stands up and sighs. "Gimme ten minutes sweetheart. I need a damn shower."

Haymitch is in the shower for at least half an hour. I take that time to open up all the windows, choosing the harsh winter winds over the stench of his house. _How does he live like this? _I gather up all of the dishes and cups and put them in the dishwasher, and try to throw out most of the trash. Once it's breathable, I close the window and light the fireplace. He really needs a maid. I make a mental note to ask Hazelle if she'd be willing to work for him.

Haymitch comes back down the staircase, and I really see how unwell he is. He's wearing at least three sweaters and a hat. His eyes seem sunken in and he keeps sniffling.

"Are you alright?" I ask. He's obviously not. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one watching out for Haymitch, especially because he doesn't watch out for himself.

"Don't worry 'bout me, sweetheart. What I wanna know is why you're here. You're not just saying hello because you wanna see my pretty face."

I had momentarily forgotten about everything going on in my life. I was so preoccupied with the task at hand that everything was almost all right for a few seconds.

"You'll never guess who paid me a visit today."

Haymitch doesn't _need_ to guess. He takes out a bottle of brown alcohol and slides it my way. He wraps himself up in a blanket and sits down on a chair in the kitchen.

"You should have a drink." It's not a suggestion.

I tell him everything, and polish off an entire glass of the brown alcohol. I tell him about Snow's grin and the last thing he said to me. Haymitch looks as worried as I feel. My stomach is warm and it's too hot in here. I peel off my scarf and coat.

"You slept with Hawth- Gale?" Haymitch asks, bothering to correct himself. I just nod. "Girl. You really screwed this one up."

"Yeah." I say. "I think that's the worst part – I don't even regret it."

"No, Katniss. The worst part is what's yet to come."

* * *

Three days after my encounter with President Snow, Madge comes to my home in the Victor's Village. She carries a crisp, off-white envelope with the red seal of Panem's flag.

The Capitol has a postage system for it's residents to send letters and packages to each other. I wasn't aware that it extended beyond the dam, but it makes sense that officials would want to have contact with Peacekeepers, the mayors, and other important people in the districts. Not everyone has a telephone here.

Madge greets me warmly. Under her puffy jacket, she's wearing a dress. My best friend has never let the weather stop her from wearing her expensive, frilly clothes. We sit at the kitchen table. I pour us apple cider and get some fruit and cheese.

"My father was going through the mail," Madge tells me, crunching on an apple slice, "most of the letters are work-related. If anything else comes in the mail it's my mother's medicine or those magazines I love reading." Madge gets tabloids from the Capitol – some of them are about fashion, but the majority of them are about celebrities. The Capitol's famous aren't those who have the most money or power, but rather those who entertain: singers, actors and personalities such as Caesar Flickerman, and of course, victors. Luckily, I haven't been talked about _all_ that much, but I'm sure that will change with the victory tour.

I motion to the elephant in the room. Or more accurately, the letter. "And this is for me?"

Madge nods sharply, her blonde ringlets bouncing with the force. She slides the letter over to me. Her soft, manicured hands quickly brush over mine. I remember how different we are, but how similar we are becoming.

The envelope is scented to smell like roses. I carefully open it, prolonging the process of reading it. It's written on thick card, not the flimsy paper I used to do homework on. At the top is the seal and letterhead unique to the President's letters. I read it out loud:

_Miss Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games_

_The annual Victory Tour celebrating your achievements will commence on the first of next month. After your final stop on your tour in the Capitol, you will be expected to fulfill your duties as a victor in the Capitol for another week. More information will follow as necessary._

_Your cooperation is always greatly appreciated,_

_President Coriolanus Snow._

"Wow, the victory tour's so soon?" Madge says, completely ignorant to my dread. "That's crazy. It seems like yesterday we were at our first reaping."

I shrug, finding myself not in a mood to talk.

"What do you think your _victor duties _are?" Madge asks.

_They're going to sell my body to the highest bidder,_ I want to say. "I probably need to make public appearances. You know, lunches and schools and all that stuff."

Madge shrugs. "Oh, lighten up a little. I know you _hate_ them, but it might not be half-bad. Maybe you'll meet Finnick Odair."

Madge has had a crush on Finnick, the winner of the 65th Games, since she first laid eyes on him at the victory tour. I've never seen the appeal – he's always dating a new celebrity every week, and seems to flirt with _everyone... _My mouth pops open. How dumb was I? Of course it's an act – even District 4 is impoverished compared to the Capitol. Their lives are just as bad as ours here. He isn't really interested in socializing and dating them. I realize that I might be just like him soon enough.

Madge finishes her cider. "Okay, stop looking like a fish. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"You've always been a crappy liar."

She's right. I want to tell her so badly. I hate keeping things from her, but I have no choice. I have the feeling that I'll be telling half-truths for a very long time. "It's just victor stress. I don't want to be celebrated for having _killed people_."

Madge puts her hand on top of mine, attempting to reassure me. "Oh, Katniss. You did what you had to do." But does that make it okay?

I don't ask her. Madge would never lie to me, but a lie is sometimes so much kinder than the truth. She cares too much to hurt me. I don't need her words. What I've done will never be forgivable._ How can I ask for her acceptance when I can't accept myself?_

After Madge goes home, I walk myself over the Hawthorne's house. I haven't seen Gale in days, but I think that's for the better. At some point, I am going to have to talk to him, but I'm perfectly content not dealing with that right now. I can tell it won't end well.

To my luck, he's not home. Gale's turned eighteen, so he's done with school and works in the mines. I told him he doesn't have to – I have more than enough money to support both of our families – but he refused. I still give Hazelle fresh food and somegrain when I know he won't see. Hazelle was more of a mother to me than my own mother these past few years, and his siblings are like family to me as well. I won't let my best friend's pride hurt them.

I open the door – nobody around here locks them – and find Rory at the table doing homework. He looks pretty focused so I decide to not bother him. His mother is in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.

"Katniss," she smiles, pulling me in for a hug. I kiss her cheek. "How are you, sweetie?"

"Fine," I lie. "I just wanted to check in on you guys."

"Everything is business-as-usual around here."

We talk for a while, and eventually I tell her about Haymitch's house. "He _really_ needs someone to look after him, and he said he'd pay well. He doesn't even wake up until noon, so you don't have to get in at the crack of dawn."

Hazelle bites her lip and wipes her hands on her pants. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and mutters something incoherent. "I really appreciate the thought you've put into this, and how much you've done for me and all of us. I'll have to think about it, alright?"

I don't understand Hazelle's reluctance, but it's not my place to question it. There's a lot I don't know about her and her life. For all I know, she has history with my mentor as well.

* * *

Before I know it, my prep team, Effie Trinket, and Cinna are knocking on my door. They've brought a truckload of dresses, makeup and shoes. I don't know what to do with them. I don't have a chance to catch my breath before I'm being whisked away and beautified. They scrub me raw from head to toe, apply a dozen creams and lotions, and then they paint my nails. That's another whole issue – I have a bad habit of biting my nails, and Octavia won't let me hear the end of it.

Eventually my body is as smooth and hairless as a baby's, my skin is moisturized to completion, and my hair and nails are deemed acceptable. After I've been properly prepped, Cinna and Effie meet with me to discuss fashion. I've honestly missed both of them.

I find myself hugging Cinna warmly, and letting Effie kiss my cheek. While I don't know if I'd consider them friends, the two of them are clearly on my side and root for me. It's nice to have their kind words and optimism, especially since I receive so little of that here at home.

I have a different dress for the first eleven stops I make: the other districts, from Eleven to One. Then, I come back to Twelve for the Harvest Festival and my celebration here. After that, I have a party in the Capitol in my honor, as well as an interview with Caesar and keys to an apartment. This is standard fare for every victor. I will spend a week in the Capitol _after_ the festivities are over, and while that's not unique to me _alone_, it's different from what my family will expect. Luckily, we haven't had a victor since Haymitch, so nobody knows what to expect for my responsibilities.

Cinna gets Effie to leave us alone for a few minutes. She rushes into the living room, pink wig sliding down her forehead. Once she's gone, Cinna envelops me in a warm hug. I forgot how nice it was to be around his unconditional support.

"How are you doing?" Cinna asks me, wide brown eyes filled with concern.

"Honestly?" I ask. He nods. I feel like I can trust him more than almost anyone, yet I know that there are Capitol ears in this house, listening to everything I say. I decide to tell my stylist what's on my mind. "It's been really hard these past few months. I hardly get a night's sleep without nightmares. And when I wake up, I have to deal with… _this_. Everyone wants me to pretend to be someone I'm not. It's hard. I just want to be left alone."

Cinna's expression is unreadable. He puts his hand on my knee and looks me in the eyes. "Katniss. You're one of the bravest people I've ever met, and one of the strongest too. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally strong. The hard part of all of this is over. You have a warm bed and food to eat. Your mother and your sister and your cousins are safe. When you think that things are too tough for you to handle, remind yourself why you try in the first place. _For them_."

I say the names to myself: _Prim. Gale. My mother. Madge. Hazelle. Rory, Vick and Posy. _If I can't stay strong for myself, I'll do it for them.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you guys liked this! It would mean the world to me if you reviewed!


	4. Victory, Part 1

**A/N:** Hi there! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Chapter 4 was going to be the Victory tour, but I decided to break it up into two parts. Enjoy!

* * *

The hem of my skirt tickles my ankles as I pace back and forth in the empty room. The light light grey bottom of my dress starkly contrasts to the rest of my ensemble – red lipstick, red top and red sleeves, red high heels. Oh, and let's not forget – the red I'll never be able to scrub off my name, regardless of how many celebrations are thrown for _Katniss Everdeen_. At the root of all of this, I'm no more than a killer. That's what this tour celebrates.

I don't feel like me anymore. I don't really know who _me_ is.

This is my first time in another district, and I feel as uneasy and out of place as I look. My face is covered by the short ringlets Effie insisted that I be styled into, and my dress costs more than any of the district-people will make in a lifetime. From the window in the Justice building, I can see the hoards of people, crowded together like animals in a pen. It's raining, and even the elderly are out, damp and shivering with everyone else. When they open the door for me, a peacekeeper holds an umbrella above me. The rest of them have guns pointed at the _innocent _civilians.

I'm met with loud cheers and words of encouragement that I can't make out. Still, their façade is just as false as mine. District 11 has no love for me. Regardless, there's polite support, mostly urged on by the weapons threatening them.

I recite my speech just like I've done in front of Effie and Haymitch dozens of times. They give no indication of when I stumble over a few words. Although, I doubt the thousands of tan blobs could have not noticed.

I want to talk about Rue. I want to find her mother and siblings, and weep with them. I want to find Thresh's family, and mourn for their loss. I want to apologize. I don't deserve to be here. Instead, I give the families a month's worth of my grain, in "appreciation" of my alliances with their lost children, and their "loyalty to the end". It's a very generous gift, and will keep them from hunger for a very long time. But the hollowness of an empty stomach is nothing compared to the loss of a loved one.

My words feel as fake as I am. I wonder if it's what they'd expect from _this_ Katniss, the bubbly and ditsy flirt. I wonder if they think I won by luck. I don't want to know what they think of me. If the Katniss of last year saw me, what would she think?

Afterward, Haymitch introduces me to his "friend" Chaff. I didn't think Haymitch _had_ friends. He's as drunk as my mentor usually is, maybe drunker. I try not to notice the stump on his arm, and we talk politely for an hour or so. I stand up to leave, and Chaff sees me off with a sloppy kiss on the lips. Haymitch guffaws, and Effie looks horrified.

When the mayor and his wife offer us to a dinner and warm bed, I fake a headache.

I want to lie in my room in the dark. I want to never speak to anyone. It seems that privacy is the one luxury I'm incapable of affording.

* * *

I'm in an endless cycle for the next three districts. Ten, Nine, and Eight are the same. The only things different are the faces glaring at me, and my outfits. District Ten meant a plum dress, Nine meant a white top and olive skirt, and Eight meant a bright, yellow dress that poufed out at least a foot on both sides with me, and a matching hat.

Things take a turn for the unexpected when I arrive in District Seven. Effie has me wear a low cut, tight fitting, dark green gown. Cinna designed it himself, and it's a beautiful dress. It's supposed to match the color of the trees in Seven's forests. Coming into the district, all the leaves have fallen off the trees and left them barren. All I see are logs.

I give the same speech in every district. It seems to come easier to me, and I don't need the three note cards I had previously been clutching onto for dear life. I feel more confident in my abilities to pull off this act. The only thing I'm anxious about is being in the Capitol. There are eyes everywhere, and ears in the walls. I can't act it; I have to _become _it. Or everyone will see right through me.

I'm so preoccupied by my own thoughts that I almost miss my cue to accept flowers from a gaggle of children. I take the bouquet albeit unhappily. I used to love the pink flower, so similar to the one that my sister was named after. President Snow changed that with his engineered roses. I manage to recover. But I hear a low snicker from somewhere in the crowd. It seems that closer to the Capitol I get, the more nerve people have. I can't say I really mind – everyone I encounter is almost _too_ polite.

I'm ready to get back on the train when Haymitch approaches me.

"Change of plans, sweatheart," he informs me, "we're staying for dinner".

"Why?" We've always politely declined the district's offer to feed my team and I, so I don't understand why we're staying now.

"I have a friend here I'd like you to meet." Haymitch says. I frown, remembering Chaff from District Eleven. As usual, he seems to always know what's on my mind. "No, _she's_ not going to hit on you. Well, I mean Jo's always been a bit fluid in her sexuality-"

"Jo?" I ask. If Haymitch's friends are in another district, they _have _to be victors. There has only been one female victor in Seven, ever. And she's nothing short of terrifying. "As in Johanna Mason?"

"She's not half-bad once you get to know her," he insists. I grimace.

"I think I'll be having that drink you keep suggesting."

The dinner at the Mayor's house requires _another_ outfit change, complete with makeup and hair styling. I manage to get Effie to let me wear minimal makeup: only eyeliner and plum lipstick. I'm in a black lace dress that's _way_ too tight for my liking, and it's so short I don't think I can bend over. At least I can wear practical shoes because of the muddy terrain.

The mayor and her husband are almost _too _polite. They have four sons and two daughters, and all of them are almost identical. The oldest girl, Willow, reminds me of Prim. She looks completely different with her curly, dark hair and green eyes. Yet something about her stature reminds me of my little sister. I seem to be seeing her everywhere.

Besides the mayor's family, four high-level officials are there, and of course, the victors. I can't distinguish between the three middle-aged men. They all won in a five-year period. Those must have been this district's glory days, when their slaughter was celebrated. I smile politely and shake hands, being _Miss Everdeen, _as opposed to Katniss.

I know Johanna Mason as soon as I see her. I remember watching her games – only three years before mine. She's at least a head shoulder than me, but all muscle where I'm flesh pulled tight over bone. Johanna is ninety five pounds of overall terrifying. She looks ridiculous in her yellow dress. I can't imagine her in anything but the tatters of her Games uniform, slashing at opponents with her hand axe.

My mother said that people like her were the worst. She pretended to be a coward, and killed when nobody was looking. I thought her strategy was pretty good. Maybe I was always this cruel. I'm having a hard time remembering what I used to be like.

Johanna walks in looking like a sunflower – brown spiky hair contrasting to the huge skirt that fans out from her waist. As soon as she's seen, the entire lounge goes silent.

"Well, look who it is." Johanna says in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. She walks towards me and I begin to panic. Luckily, she continues right past me and embraces Haymitch. "How are you, old man?"

Haymitch says something in his gruff tone that I can't completely make out. "I have someone to introduce to ya. Jo, this is Katniss."

"I've heard of her, grandpa." Johanna – Jo? – rolls her big brown eyes. They seem especially large when compared to her tiny everything else. She turns her gaze towards me, and I suddenly feel _very_ self-conscious.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I say, smiling brightly.

"And he said you didn't have manners." The shorter girl laughs. She kisses my cheek and I try not to recoil in fear. "Oh, don't worry. I don't bite… hard."

I laugh nervously.

"I'm _parched_." Johanna announces loudly. "Katniss, would you accompany me to the bar?"

I follow behind her quietly. I have a feeling this is one of those 'girl talk' moments I know so little about.

Johanna plops down unceremoniously on the couch, her tulle skirt taking up the majority of the sofa. She flags down a waiter. "Two vodka sodas."

She turns her attention to me. "So, I gotta ask. That cousin of yours. He single?"

My throat goes dry, but I manage to croak out a yes.

Her lip curls up into something like a smile. "Oh my god. He's _so_ not your cousin. And you're _so_ screwing him."

I plan on denying it, but the flush that creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks betrays me. "He's all yours."

Our drinks come and Johanna takes a gigantic gulp before I've even had time to thank the server.

"So, Katniss. How's victor life treating you so far?" She asks me, sucking on an ice cube.

"It's nice having an exorbitant amount of money," I admit.

She giggles. Johanna Mason, serial killer, _giggles_. On top of that, it's a girlish peal of laughter, as pleasant to the ears as a tolling bell. I stare at her incredulously.

"What? Did you expect me to have some evil, maniacal cackle?" Johanna says, her voice oozing with sarcasm. "I'm not some psychopathic killer. You of all people should get that. They see me when they look at you."

I know she's right. She nods at me a little, and pats my thigh with her hand. It's meant to be a comforting gesture.

"Wanna go back in there?" Jo asks, standing up. "I'm _starved_. You'd almost think I couldn't afford my food."

On the train that night, Haymitch asks me what I thought of her.

"It's weird," I admit. "She's just like me."

Haymitch nods, taking a sip of his drink. "That's exactly why I wanted you two to talk. You're one of _us_ now, whether you like it or not. And normal people, they're gonna look at you a lot differently. You have to be ready for it, and you can't take it personally."

I find myself asking the dumbest possible question: "When can I be myself?"

He runs his hand through a strand of greasy hair and chuckles. "Katniss, you _are_ this person you're pretending is an act. You, Katniss Everdeen, killed people in the Hunger Games. You, Prim's older sister, are the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. You could end up mentoring Gale's siblings, or your sister, or anyone else you've ever glanced at. _You_, Katniss, are burdened with this miserable life. You're yourself for every waking moment."

"No wonder you drink so much." I retort. Haymitch's answer is exactly what I expect it to be, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

I half-expect him to be mad at my comment, but instead, he just refills his cup.

* * *

District 6 and 5 are almost identical. Transportation and power are very closely related industries. Both of the towns have bright lights, a high-tech train station, and a problem with morphling addictions. All I know of the painkiller is that Eliza – Madge's mother – gets vials of it from the Capitol to help with her headaches. According to Haymitch, it's pretty nasty stuff. The doctors in the Capitol don't like to give it to people, even if they're dying, because of how addictive it can be.

District 4, however, is a different story. It takes another three days to get to 4, because of how far away it is from 5. I've never understood how far away the districts actually are until recently. And they aren't in order from closest to furthest.

As soon as I wake up, I can tell that I'm in 4. The air, even in the train car, seems to smell of salt water. I've never been to the sea before. The sun coming in through the window of my car seems somehow warmer. My dress is teal, and I don't need to wear a coat. I do my own hair in an intricate updo – the humidity means I should have it off my neck and out of my face. In complete honesty, I'm almost _excited _to be here.

Districts 1 and 2 have by far, the highest standards of living. They're basically the Capitol's pets. Which explains why the majority of victors come from 1 and 2 – and they get career training centers funded by the Gamemakers themselves. On the other hand, Districts 10 through 12 (and 13 when it was around) are basically ignored by the Capitol. They need us, but they don't want us. Regardless, District 4 is seen as almost a Career district. The Capitol's people are obsessed with seafood, and I suppose something about the great weather just makes the people there less miserable. District 4 is the most beautiful.

Effie is always in a good mood, somehow. But even Haymitch seems less grumpy.

As soon as I'm off the train, I'm met with thunderous applause and cheers. The crowd here is more enthusiastic than my family and friends were back in 12. Haymitch told me to expect that – in the _better_ districts, they actually respect the Games. Tributes are seen as honorable, and volunteers are esteemed. They respect me for winning (_for killing_), because I just happened to be better than who they sent that year.

My victory speech feels more passionate this time, although I'm not sure why. For a moment, I catch myself basking in the glory. I'd be lying if I didn't say that this felt nice. But that goes away as quickly as it first came. No matter what, I can _never_ be proud, or even okay, with what I did.

Mayor Crabb (who insists I call him Marlin) and his wife invite Haymitch and I over for dinner. I accept graciously. The wife, Adella, looks oddly familiar but I can't possibly imagine where we've ever met or how I would know her. Luckily, Effie fills me in while she re-braids my hair. The humidity made my hair frizz up, and standing outside for an hour didn't help. My escort wanted to rub the oil into my hair herself, and help me redo the braid.

"Marlin and Adella have been married for _forever_. From what the locals say, they've been together since they were younger than you are." Effie _awws_, and continues, "Adella never took her husband's name. She's an Odair, you see."

"Like _Finnick _Odair?" I ask.

Effie gives a small _mhm._ "She's his aunt. But before the heartthrob you know of came to fame, his family was well-known in the district. They weren't the richest or the most influential, but they're the best at catching fish."

"If they catch all the fish, how are they not the most rich?"

"You have to stop interrupting me Katniss, it's impolite. And that's because they're _philanthropic_. They sell everything at ridiculously low costs, so everyone can go to sleep with food in their stomachs."

And to think, I thought they only loved Finnick for his muscles and smile.

I'm surprised to see the Mayor's home. Instead of living near (or in) the Justice Building, they live on the waterfront. The home is raised up a flight on stilts, as to prevent flooding from high tides. I have to take my wedged sandals just to climb the stairs. For all their wealth, District 4 is a very down-to-earth, casual place. Even Effie is dressed down for her evening. She isn't coming to the dinner; instead she's visiting an old friend of hers with Cinna. I can't imagine where they're going. Her naturally blonde hair is swept over one shoulder, and she's wearing a simple gray top and blue skirt ("I'd hate to steal your spotlight!" Effie had said, but I think she just wanted an excuse to be less fancy).

As we ascend, I'm surprised to see Haymitch enveloped in a hug by an elderly woman. He moves on to hug at least three or four other people. I realize he's been here a lot.

Adella hugs me. People in the Capitol bow in greeting, and people in 12 shake hands. But I suppose here, they hug and kiss cheeks. I kiss her cheek and thank her graciously for having us over.

The olive skinned woman laughs, her white teeth contrasting with the bright red of her lipstick. For a moment, I'm caught off guard by how beautiful she is. She leans in again and puts her lips by my ear.

"Sweetling," she whispers, "don't be afraid to be yourself here. I promise no harm will come to you under our roof. And nobody is listening in."

I have difficulty catching all of her words because of her thick, District 4 accent. But I've heard enough to feel at ease. Yet, my mind is conflicted. _Should I trust this woman?_ I ask myself. _Does she actually want to help me, or does she want me to speak freely so the Capitol can hear my thoughts?_

Inside, I'm met with more hugs and cheek-kisses. Marlin greets me as well, and so do his young daughter and son. They can't be more than eight or nine, but they act much more mature than I would expect for children their age.

Then, I'm greeted by a handful of other guests, all victors. The first woman is the elderly one who I saw hugging Haymitch. She introduces herself as Mags, although the first time around I thought she said Madge. From her slightly slurred speech and the way the left side of her face is drooped, she looks like she's suffered a stroke. Next is two men in their mid-thirties, both so similar-looking that I can't tell them apart. They won consecutive games.

Another woman in her fifties or so introduces herself as Kate. I instantly recognize her. Katherine Crabb won the 41st Hunger Games as a twelve year-old girl. The Career pack didn't want her, and they took the trident from the Cornucopia because they assumed that was her weapon of choice. But she used the bow and arrow, and she killed all of the four Careers. I admired her growing up. I did a project on her in school. She's also the mayor's cousin. I wonder if anyone will do a report on me. I wouldn't want them to.

I'd recognize Annie Cresta anywhere. The beautiful young woman was tragically mad. I mean to some degree, all victors are. But she completely lost it in her Games. I pity her. Yet, my assumptions about her are way off-base. The redhead is probably the more friendly, earnest person I've ever spoken to.

Everyone sits down in the dining room, and I excuse myself to use the washroom. As I'm walking back to the table, I finally meet _him_.

* * *

**A/N:** To be continued...

Review if you enjoyed reading!


	5. Victory, Part 2

I didn't exactly _meet_ Finnick Odair as much as I ran into him. I walked out of the bathroom and hurried back to the dining room. Prolonged absences are impolite, and regardless of what Adella said, I'm still going to be on my best proper behavior. I rounded the corner without looking where I was going and found my face smashed into Finnick Odair's muscular chest.

The first thing I register is warm hands on my forearms, and then a low laugh. I look up to meet the most beautiful sea green eyes I've ever seen, and then quickly drop my gaze. I take a step back and smooth my dress.

"I'm so sorry-"

Finnick just flashes his pearly white teeth and laughs again. "It's quite alright, Katniss."

"This isn't how I had imagined meeting you." I say and then wince at my word choice. _Now it sounds like you dream about him!_ I yell at myself internally. Then, I remember that being a bit of an airhead helps my act, so it's actually okay.

Finnick looks at me like he's remembering something. His smile drops. "I'll see you back at the table, Katniss. We should… talk later. _Alone._"

My confusion must be apparent, so he smiles at me again. I tense up automatically when he puts his hand on my shoulder but try to not let it show. "I don't bite, Katniss. Unless you're into that."

He winks at me and I find myself unable to stop the blush that creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. I take a few deep breaths and seat myself in the dining room, in between Haymitch and Adella. The conversation ceases as soon as people notice I'm there. I don't know what to make of that. It's slightly uncomfortable.

The mayor's wife immediately changes the topic, sensing the discomfort in the room. I decide I like her. During the first course, a white soup with clam in it served in a bread bowl, I ask Haymitch why she looks so different. There's very little travelling out of one's district, and moving from one to the other is almost unheard of. I believe that she's an Odair, but her features are very different from the rest of her family and the district. Most of the people in 4 are tanned from being in the sun, but Adella's skin is naturally darker and lacks the lines that are so common when one works in the sun. The reddish-brown hair made famous by her nephew is just brown in her.

"Her mother's mother came here from someplace else during the dark days." Haymitch tells me.

"Someplace else?" I ask. "Like another district?"

"No, like not _Panem_." Haymitch answers, but his response just leaves me with a thousand more questions. I take a sip of my vodka soda. I've grown fond of them.

"So, Katniss," Mayor Crabb gets my attention, "are you excited to be going to the Capitol?"

I feel everyone's eyes on me. _Be honest,_ I tell myself. _But most importantly, keep up the act. _All lies have truth in them at their core, and I suppose that it's easier to act as I should if I'm not completely acting.

"Of course I am! But honestly, I'm a bit nervous. It's so _different. _Especially since there's always so much, and back home in District 12, there's so little."

It's Annie Cresta who responds. "I never liked going there. It's too loud and bright. They don't make me go anymore. Maybe if you just try to get through it, it'll be over soon."

_This poor, sweet girl. How can someone so damaged be so naïve and almost optimistic? _I notice how she looks to Finnick, as if for his approval. They're about the same age, and probably knew each other. I wonder if there's anything more there.

"Do you have any plans in the Capitol after your celebration?" Finnick asks. I wonder if he can make what he's asking any more obvious. He wants to know if I'm being _whored_.

I want to ask Haymitch what to say, but I can't. _Lies with truth_,I say in my head. "Oh, I'm not sure yet. There's going to be lunches with officials and whatnot. I also need to meet some potential sponsors for the next year. It's going to be my first year mentoring, _and _it's a Quell. I'd love to get to go shopping if there's time. I desperately need new clothing, and I'd like to buy my sister some things as well."

Finnick nods slightly. He understands.

Luckily, nobody expects me to talk for a while. One of the people at the table I don't recognize – probably a District official – starts a conversation about what the Quell's theme might be. The 25th Hunger Games made each district pick the tributes they'd like to send, and the 50th picked twice the amount of tributes. Whatever it will be, the only thing guaranteed is that it will be horrible.

I'm mostly silent for the next two courses – a salad with fresh vegetables and seaweed, followed by fried fish with potatoes and a brown sauce. I sip my drink slowly. When someone asks a question or mentions something about the Capitol, I add eagerly. But I find that I'd rather just watch the conversation than speak.

After the final course ends, and I feel like I might split open from all the food I've eaten, Finnick makes good on his promise to speak with me.

He stands up and stretches his arms dramatically. The motion lifts his shirt up, giving me a gratuitous glimpse at the expanse of his toned stomach. He catches me gawking at him and winks.

"I am _so_ stuffed. Marlin, Adella. A fabulous meal as always."

Adella smiles at her nephew, "You know you're welcome over anytime, sweetie."

"I'd be over every evening for dinner if I could, but I'm afraid if I did that I wouldn't be nearly as handsome as everyone expects me to be." Finnick jokes. I wonder how much effort he spends into maintaining his physique. Then again, I suppose, we victors have absolutely nothing to do all day anyways.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk. Katniss, would you like to join me?"

Adella smiles into her wine glass. I fell like everyone's in on some practical joke that I have yet to understand. But still I play my part, and accept graciously.

"Be safe." Haymitch snickers. It's finally then that I put two and two together. They think we're going to _hook up_. Or at least they're acting like that. I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes dramatically.

We walk alongside the beach. I take my shoes off, enjoying the feeling of squishy wet sand in between my painted toes, and how the small waves wash up to my calves.

Finnick, I suppose is used to the water. His pants are cuffed to his knee, and he's holding his shoes in his hands as well. I look at us and laugh at the absurdity.

"What's so funny?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. It's just…"

"What, you never imagined you'd be walking down a beach with someone as good-looking as me?" Finnick teases. He's much less arrogant than I thought he'd be. He's well aware of how beautiful he is, but he seems to find humor in it. "So, what do you think of Four?"

I tell him that it's beautiful, but that I'd rather be at home.

"In all honesty, I was oddly fascinated with District 12 after my time there. But I can't imagine what it must be like living there… gosh."

I don't really know what he means, so I just nod. I find myself asking him, "So, what's it like being Finnick Odair?"

"Depends. Do you want _this _Finnick?" he asks, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt and striking his hand on his hip in the most ridiculous pose. "Or this one?" He offers, picking up a piece of driftwood and pretending to stab me with it.

"Well, you're kind of cute and lethal at the same time. I thought that was your whole thing."

Finnick raises his eyebrows. "So you think I'm cute?

My face turns as red as the lobster we had at dinner.

"You really should learn to hide what you're thinking better. Make your face work for you."

"What do you mean?"

He points to my very red cheeks. "I can tell that you're embarrassed. I could also tell when you're happy, or when you're uncomfortable, or even when you're lying. You need to work on that. Keep your face a mask for the rest of the world."

I frown. He knows that I'm upset now too. I've always known that I'm basically an open book. I just thought I was a bit better at hiding it. "Well, how?"

"When you're unsure, smile like you know a huge, juicy secret. When you're nervous, play with your hair and bat your eyelashes. They'll think you're flirting. Speak softly and slowly so they have to focus on what you're saying, and not _how_ you're saying it."

"Is that what you do?" I ask. I'm confused as to why he's telling me this. I want to think that he's trying to help me, but I'm too suspicious to think that that's the case.

"Yes, actually. Tell me Katniss, what would you do if I kissed you right now?"

It's such an unexpected question that I have to do a double-take. "Uh, kiss you back?"

"No, you should try to figure out _why _I'm kissing you. What I'm trying to do, or what I'm distracting you from."

"When boys like you kiss girls like me, I know exactly what you're trying to do."

Finnick laughs loudly. "There aren't that many boys like me, or girls like you for that matter. There's just the seventy-four of us."

Once the two of us return to the house, I only stay for another hour or so. I chat with Annie Cresta for a while. She's a sweet girl, and not that much older than me. I hadn't really processed how similar in age I am to the recent victors. I feel like I've aged _years_ in the past few months. I suppose that my experiences have made me a lot different from the average seventeen year old.

It's easily believed that the stories of Annie's mental illness are exaggerated, since she seems completely well adjusted to me. But I think back on the months of my mother's severe depression. There were a few days where she seems like she was back to normal, but those were far and few. Maybe it's just a good day for her. I find myself not even caring either way.

"I think that if you lived here, we'd be very good friends." Annie tells me. I smile a little at that, and it feels genuine. I've gotten better at making friends, it seems. Too bad it took a tragedy to make me connect with others.

* * *

District 3 is by far the most boring district I've visited. Everything in the town is extremely high-tech, and the amenities are astounding. Everyone seems very smart, and they must be to come up with all of these things. But there's nothing to do besides stare at the bright lights and machines. The air is thick with smog, and I'm pretty sure most people have the breathing sickness the coal miners in Twelve get. My dress has tiny lights in it that flicker when I move. I feel like a holiday tree.

Luckily, we don't stay long. The mayor is sick, and she apologizes, but refuses to offer to have us over. I can't say I'm upset. Effie didn't even get off the train,

"Every district is horrible in it's own way," Haymitch tells me once we're out of earshot.

"What's wrong with District Four?" I ask. I think I genuinely enjoyed the time I spent there.

Haymitch just laughs. "You have _no idea_. C'mon sweetheart, I want a drink."

And so it continues with District Two. I am least looking forward to this district. This isn't necessarily because of Cato and Clove – the two Careers whose deaths can be easily traced back to me. It's because of _what_ District Two is, and the people who live there.

District Two is less than half a day's travel from the Capitol itself. If it wasn't for the high mountain peaks, I'm sure you could see the lights from the city at night in the distance. The district lives under the guise of being the provider of masonry as well as mining and stone quarries. If so, why does it have such a higher standard of living than my home?

The rumors say District Two has the Capitol's military base hidden inside the mountains. Most peacekeepers come from District Two as well – Capitol citizens would never _willingly_ give up their luxurious life to live in a district. It would make sense too. If the Capitol wanted them to remain loyal, they would have to give them special treatment – which would explain the Careers and just about everything else that I know of 2.

I wasn't prepared to see it with my own eyes. District Two practically _is_ a mini-Capitol. For the first time on my tour, I don't feel overdressed. My gown is pale pink with a golden shimmer to it, and is made of rich silk. It clings to my body all the way down to the floor, and I need to hold the hem as I walk. I have a strange white hat on and white high heels. It's cool out today, and the golden shawl draped around my shoulders does nothing to keep the chill off my bare back.

The people here aren't as beautiful as those in the Capitol, but they're all in such good shape. Both the men and women work in the quarries, and have the toned bodies to show for it. Their clothing is modest, but the fabrics are fine and clearly expensive. The children aren't short and half-starved here, like back home. They begin career training as soon as they're in school, with mandatory physical education classes. Even a small boy of seven or eight years old looks like he weighs as much as Prim, except all in muscle. I don't know what's worse – being starved to death or bred for murder. I wouldn't want either.

After my speech I'm approached by a tall, broad shouldered woman. She looks to be of almost the same height as Gale. Her facial features look vaguely familiar. I register than she must be Cato's mother.

"Katniss dear," she takes my hands in her own. "I'm afraid we haven't been acquainted properly. My son Cato was in your Games this year."

I don't know what to make of the situation.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am." I apologize sincerely.

The woman just shakes her head. Her blonde hair is in a tight updo that makes the skin on her forehead taut.

"I loved my son dearly. It _is_ the price that we face for the districts' rebellion. I just would like you to know that I harbor no bitter feelings towards you or your actions. You played the Games, dear. I simply intend to wish you the best."

Cato's mother envelopes me in a tight hug. I pat her back awkwardly, not knowing what to do. If I lost a child in the Games, I would loathe the child who took my son or daughter away from me. But this woman doesn't even seem fazed.

I decide that being starved to death is a much better fate than being born to die.

Mayor Stone graciously invites us over and seems to genuinely want us there. She's so friendly I'm a little bit suspicious, but even Haymitch warms up to her. I meet a bunch of head Peacekeepers. It's hard to bite my tongue and be polite around them, but I manage (with the occasional stomp on my foot from Haymitch). I meet more victors than I can count – at least twenty. Apparently every home in the victor's village is full. That's including the fact that many victors marry each other. There are two that stand out to me. The man, Brutus is in his forties and balding, yet still is all muscles and terror. The woman, Enobaria is just as terrifying but in her own way. The young woman's complexion is as dark as Adella's was and her eyes are the palest blue I've ever seen. She has the thickest hair I've ever seen, and yet her waist is smaller than mine. When she smiles, I see that her teeth have been pointed into fangs. Her icy stare seems like it's trying to be kind, and yet it does nothing but make me want to run away.

_You're one of them. Act like it._

Instead of running, I drink. An hour later, I find myself laughing on the couch in between Enobaria and James. The blond man was the victor of last year's games. His hand casually resting on my thigh and the playful smile on his lips makes me forget about all the children he's killed. I suppose I'm no better. Enobaria excuses herself, throwing a knowing wink in my direction. I'm a bit lost to the meaning behind it until James' hand finds its way under my skirt. I look at him quizzically.

"You're a beautiful woman, Katniss." He tells me, his other hand on my jaw. "Would you accompany me upstairs? I guarantee they won't miss us for a little."

I find myself wondering how such a polite, well-dressed individual was capable of the things I saw on TV. I'm not as disgusted by it as I should be.

We find the first room down the hall with nobody in it – an empty closet. His lips are on mine and it is _breathtaking_. I can't get enough of it. His hands tangle through my hair, and I'm not even upset that my intricate hairstyle is ruined. James' lips are on my neck, and I have to steady my breath. I kiss him again. I don't think I want to stop kissing him, ever. He sucks on my tongue and the sensation isn't as strange as I thought it would be. I feel too warm. Heat pools in the pit of my stomach.

Someone knocks on the door.

James looks at me, silently asking for what to do. I shake my head and mouth _be quiet_.

Whoever is out there knocks again. I hear a muffled voice that must be Haymitch's. I try to fix my hair, straighten my dress, and stick my head out the cracked-open door.

"Having fun, sweetheart?"

I don't think I've wanted to hurt Haymitch more that I do right now.

"Can it wait _ten minutes_?" I ask, my irritation very obvious. I open the door and James scampers out and down the hallway.

Haymitch chuckles. "What can I say Sweetheart, I never expected this. I mean… you're in a coat closet making out or whatever else with the person who killed one of Hawthorne's closest friends. We're having dessert in coffee. You should freshen up and join us back out there."

I'm overwhelmed with guilt. How could I have forgotten that? James killed Gale's closest friend - besides me – and I didn't even bother to remember. Or care. _Tom had friends too_. _They all did._

I want to get out of here.

* * *

Haymitch lets himself into my train car. He sits down on the edge of my bed. I haven't moved in hours.

"How you doin'?"

I manage to laugh. It's an absurd question. He already knows the answer: how could I possibly be okay in the first place?

"I forgot… how could I forget that? It was like I didn't even care." I make a choking hiccup-y noise.

Haymitch shakes his head. "Listen, girl. I'm gonna tell you what you already know, but you can't seem to wrap your head around. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You made a choice. You've made a lot of damn choices. Good or bad, you gotta live with it. This is your life. You aren't gonna be able to snap out of it."

"I was hoping you were going to make me feel better," I say, stubborn as always.

"Go to bed, Katniss."

I try to keep myself from making any lapses of judgment in District One. I try to stay on my best behavior, and only make conversation when it's polite. I don't even think about touching the beverages. Regardless, I still have to socialize.

Cashmere and Gloss, a brother and sister duo who won in consecutive years, are by far the most well put-together people I've ever met. They coordinate their clothing to match each other. Cashmere's royal blue dress is the same color as her brother's slacks, tie, and pocket square. Cashmere's heels and her brother's shirt and loafers are the exact same shade of heather gray. On top of that, they're both extraordinarily beautiful. Insecurity creeps back into my mind.

"So Katniss," Cashmere sits down next to me on a plush sofa, her hand on my forearm. "You spending a lotta time in the Capitol?"

The first thing that catches me off guard is how _close_ she is to me. I can feel her breath on my neck and it's extremely distracting. The thing that surprises me is how casual she speaks. Unlike the rich and influential in District 2 and the Capitol that speak formally, or those in District 4 with its sunny amiability, District 1 is almost too casual. I realize that the luxury here _is_ commonplace. Everyone is wealthy, so it's nothing special.

I decide not to lie to her. I'm maybe a tenth of as attractive as her, so I'm almost positive she _spends time_ in the Capitol as well.

"Yeah," I shrug nonchalantly, "I'm meeting with possible sponsors and whatnot. The only thing that's reassuring is that I won't be in the quell next year!"

Cashmere laughs. Even that is somehow charming. Her small giggles are ladylike and endearing. I don't laugh much. And when I do, I'm usually snorting. I have a feeling Madge would get along well with her. I notice the pity in her blue eyes,

"You know, I'm gonna be there for a week or two, and Gloss'll be there too for a few days or so. All the victors have flats in this _beautiful _apartment building in the middle of the city. You should come over! We try to have a big get-together around this time of year. It's nice to get everyone over for bad comedy and wine. There aren't a lot of us, and friends from home don't necessarily get it, you know?"

She says 'you know?' a lot as well. Cashmere's offer seems earnest. She sounds like she genuinely wants to be friendly. And she's right too – Gale and Madge don't get it. _Gale._ I feel like I haven't seen him in years.

I manage to nod, and continue to the conversation with some semblance of interest. I really _am_ interested, but there are so many thoughts clouding my mind.

Luckily, Gloss comes up. He tells his sister to, and I quote, "stop hogging" me.

It appears that the only thing different about Cashmere and Gloss are their personalities. Cashmere is sweet but knows her limits. She is always polite, but still earnest. Gloss, on the other hand, is funny and carefree to a fault.

"So, Katniss. How does it feel to be one of us now?" Gloss asks, taking his sister's place. Luckily, he doesn't sit nearly as close to me. At least one of them respects personal space.

"Okay Caesar," I tease him. "But it's nice. I mean, I have heat in my house and food on my table. My sister is safe. Everything else comes second."

"Can I ask you a _personal_ question?" Gloss asks, his voice becoming almost inaudible.

"I'm guessing I don't have a choice."

"You know, you're pretty funny." Gloss says. "Okay. But that cousin of yours, is he _flexible_ in his romantic endeavors?"

I gape at him. "You're…?!"

The blond just shrugs. "I like what I like. And I like _him_."

A laugh escapes my lips at the absurdity of the situation. "I… uh. I'm not sure. He is very handsome though."

"And you're very pretty. I mean if your district wasn't being starved to death, as a whole you might look better than us!" Gloss teases. It hits a little too close to home, but I force out a polite smile.

I decide that I like Gloss. I also don't have to worry about ending up in a coat closet with him.

I talk to a few more victors throughout the night – a woman who claims she's fifty but looks twenty-five, a father and son who both won their games, and a handful of others who go as quickly as they introduced themselves. Soon enough, Haymitch and I are escorted back to the train.

"You did good there, kid." Haymitch tells me, grabbing my arm so I don't stumble over a cobblestone. "Do you think you're ready for tomorrow?"

I laugh. "No."

"Katniss, I- I'm just sorry." Haymitch tells me. His use of my first name is what grabs my attention.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry that you're going to have to endure this." _I'm sorry too._

* * *

**_A/N_**: Hope you liked this! Reviews mean the world to me!


	6. In The Capitol

**A/N:** Well. This one leaves off at a bit of a cliffhanger. Don't forget to review! :)

* * *

My third time in the Capitol is nothing like my first two stays. The first time I took the train here, I was naïve. All I was back then was Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve. Her only worry was staying alive. I wish it was still that simple.

The dam separating District 5 from the Capitol is no longer a towering concrete mass. In my mind, it's just another blockade to keep us inferior district-people out of the Capitol. The tall buildings aren't extravagant and exciting – they're overcrowded and blocking out the mountains.

I really don't want to be here.

I don't notice that Effie's standing behind me until I feel the tickling of her wig on my right arm. I shout, startled. Today my escort is wearing stranger clothing than usual: a purple gown with pearls sewn into it. Her long light gray wig has purple tips, and she's curled it to give it what she calls "beachy waves". As if Effie would step foot in the unhygienic sand and salt water of District Four. Back home, the elderly women got grey hair. It's seen as lucky that they've survived that long. But my jealousy of wrinkles and sagged skin is seen as grotesque. Ironically, it seems that the Capitol people are afraid of dying. There are hundreds and hundreds of procedures to reverse the effects of aging. Yet there she is.

"Are you excited to be back in the Capitol?" Effie asks me. I bite my cheek. In the place of an answer, I shrug. "Well, we have to get your dress on. There's going to be press at the train station, and we'll be there in less than an hour. Cinna and Octavia are waiting in your room."

Cinna, Effie, and Octavia get me ready in record time. Effie helps me into my dress and styles my hair into an intricate updo. Octavia moisturizes my skin and does my makeup, while Cinna gives direction. I love how calming his voice is. Today, he's in a tight-fitting black tunic and red slacks. If it wasn't for the gold eyeliner or piercings, I'd think he looked _normal_. That's what I love about my stylist – he isn't nearly as extravagant as he needs to be. It makes him seen down-to-earth and trustworthy.

The first outfit I'm stuffed in is a matching skirt and shirt combination. The white top looks like one of my tee shirts that shrunk. The low cut shirt only goes down to about the middle of my ribcage. The skirt makes up for it though. It's very high-waisted and skims my knees, so at least I'm not completely indecent. The skirt is a bright green and is the same color as the ridiculous pins in my hair. I've gotten much better at walking in high heels. Cinna wraps a bandage around my toes to keep them from blistering. I doubt it will work.

"Are you ready, Katniss?" Cinna asks me once we're alone.

"As I'll ever be."

He puts his hand on my forearm. The gesture forces us to keep eye contact. "I believe in you. You _can_ do this. Just breathe and be yourself."

I smile a little. Those small words meant so much more to me than any of Effie's extravagant pep talks could. I thank him.

Cinna looks around warily and then lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "And for the other things… if you ever need to talk, you know where I'll be."

He kisses my cheek and I pull him in for a long hug. I've missed the feeling of genuine human warmth and affection. Cinna really is a true friend.

"Now come on. We can't have you being late to your own celebration."

As soon as my team and I step off the train, we're ambushed by at least a hundred press-people. Camera flashes go off in my face, blinding me. I'm bombarded with questions so quickly that I can't even distinguish them from one another. Haymitch brushes me past them with mumbled curses, while Effie trails behind, shouting, "excuse me" as she passes through the mob. Her commitment to manners is admirable but mostly just irritating.

The walk to the end of the platform seems to take hours. Once we're finally in the safety of the car, I allow myself to exhale.

"What the hell was that?" I ask, exasperated.

"_Language_." Effie chides – an empty request. "That, my dear, was the press. You're a celebrity now! And those people waiting for you at the train? They write the tabloids, write entertainment shows, and even the news. Don't worry, they _ah-dore_ you. Let's keep it that way."

"What were they trying to ask me?"

This time, it's Haymitch who answers. "All the usual shallow stuff. What designers you're endorsing, any potential love interests. You'll get used to it eventually."

I blink twice. Black spots still cloud my vision from all the cameras. I have a feeling I'm not going to like it here at all.

The car that dropped us off left us in front of an apartment building. There's a guard in front of the building as well as a concierge. The concierge man (whose hair adds at least a foot to his height) is there to set up any appointments I'd like in the Capitol. When he sees me worried expression, he elaborates. I can call for a cab or book a tour in any of the museums or go to a show or dinner. I was worried he was one of Snow's minions, but I think he's just another airheaded Capitolite. There's a pool, exercise room, bar and lounge, bowling alley and cinema in the building for me to use at any time. We take an elevator up to the _sixtieth _floor and had to use a key to get onto the floor. My apartment is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. It has views of the entire Capitol. There are three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen stocked with food, living room with full bar, study, sauna, and a few rooms I don't even recognize. My closet is stocked with more clothing than I've ever seen in one place before. I skim through the hundreds of dresses, skirts, pants and tops. In another closet is more casual clothing and undergarments. I'm shocked by the amount of lingerie and revealing slips. _I'm expected to wear this too!_

The realization of what I'm going to have to do here hits me hard. I find myself sprinting into the bathroom and emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I don't realize someone else is there until I register the circles being rubbed on my back. I sniffle and turn around, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

"Are you okay?" Haymitch asks. He looks unusually worried.

"Just carsick." I lie.

He raises his eyebrows. The silent gesture says he's not buying it.

"I just can't… I can't do this!" I start to say something else, but it comes out as a mix of hiccups and sobs. He just holds me until I calm down.

"Katniss, you don't _have_ to do this. But it will be worse for you if don't. Think of your sister. Think of Prim. You're keeping your sister safe, right? She'll never have to take tesserae and she won't go hungry. You'll never go hungry."

"It's not that simple," I argue.

Haymitch nods. "It really is. If only I was given the chance that you have, sweetheart. If Snow had offered me this for my family's life, I would take it in a heartbeat. Look at Finnick. Look at the people you met in One and Two. They aren't miserable every day. You don't have to be old and cranky like me. You have a _chance_. I think you need to take it."

I know that he's right. Yet I can't seem to come to terms with the fact that this is my life.

Tonight is the ball at President Snow's mansion. He's throwing a celebration in my honor, which is supposed to be a great privilege. Instead, I'm dreading every moment of this. Cinna shows up an hour before my team, to have some one-on-one time with me.

I happen to be soaking in the bathtub when he shows up. I've always been pretty self-conscious, but there's never been an issue with being nude around Cinna. He closes the seat of the toilet and sits down on it.

"How are you doing?" He asks me. The tone of his voice suggests he already knows. I have a feeling he's spoken to Haymitch.

"You know what I have to do, right?" I whisper. He nods. "I'm _scared_."

There's _pity_ in his eyes, and for a fraction of a second I hate him for it. "Katniss, you're one of the strongest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You survived living like you did in District Twelve. That's incredible. On top of that, you've lived through the Games. How many people can say that? And you deserved to win. You never did anything cruel that wasn't a necessity. This is going to be hard for you; I don't doubt that. But I believe in you, and I believe that you'll get through this okay?'

"You mean that?"

I pull my knees up to my chest. The pink water swirls around me, glitter sticking to my legs. I've never understood why the Capitol never uses plain soap and water.

"Of course I do. Now why don't you wash that gunk out of your hair and we can start getting you ready? I made something special for you for tonight."

Cinna doesn't show me the dress until I'm ready to put it on. Every inch of my skin has been waxed, my eyebrows shaped, and layers of fragrant lotions applied. Both my fingernails and toenails have been buffed and painted a shimmery teal that matches my earrings. My makeup has been artfully applied by Octavia – a neutral lip and dark smoky eye. My cheekbones have been highlighted to make them more prominent, and my hair's been trimmed to remove the dead ends. It's been straightened and sleeked. I look much, much older than I am.

The dress is nothing short of art. Cinna has always had a way with fabrics, but this blows me out of the water. The dress is a deep plum color and the fabric clings to my body. It's cut deep in the front and there's practically no back to it. The gorgeous gown skims the floor, but there's a slit up the left leg to my mid-thigh. When Effie sees me with it on, she's silenced.

"Katniss… you look beautiful." She says quietly.

"You look a lot older." Haymitch chimes in. "…Mature. I think it's good for you."

_Mature?_ I suppose I am mature for a seventeen year old. In the past year, I've experienced more than most people experience in a lifetime. I feel decades older than I was before I was reaped.

"I just want to get this over," I admit.

"Keep your chin up and remember, _manners_." Effie tells me as we walk into the car. I have to be at my absolute best today. I just hope I don't slip up. With Snow watching every moment, the consequences could be deadly.

As much as I despise the President, he has style. His mansion is beautiful, and each inch of it is immaculately groomed. There are hundreds of the Capitol's finest, all here to celebrate me. Tables and tables of food are laid out, and a band of fifty musicians plays music. All of the conversation stops when I walk in. My first instinct is to hunch up and shy away from everyone's gaze, but Haymitch's hand on my back pokes me. I force myself to smile and look awed.

"Miss Everdeen," I hear and my blood freezes. _There he is_. I take a deep breath and turn around.

"President Snow," I say coolly and curtsy, the epitome of politeness. I wonder what his blood would look like splattered all over this white marble. Instead, I let him kiss my hand. "Your home is beautiful. Thank you so much for hosting this beautiful ball."

"May I have the first dance with you then? You look quite lovely." He asks. It's only a matter of appearance – it's very obvious I have no choice.

The two of us make our way to the dance floor, and the music resumes, louder than before. A handful of other people resume dancing, which clears some of the tension out of the room. Luckily, President Snow holds me at arms length, leaving me some room between me and his bloody rose-breath.

"So, I assume your Victory Tour went well, yes?" He asks. His voice is quiet enough that I have to strain to listen. Nobody else hears him.

I nod. "The districts were very hospitable." He twirls me and I almost trip over my dress.

"My sources tell me you were particularly welcome by a certain Victor." Of course he knows about that.

My forced smile falters for a fraction of a second. "It was a minor lapse in judgment. I can promise you it won't happen again."

President Snow laughs. It's a terrible, villainous cackle. "Why Miss Everdeen. What you do in your spare time is no concern of mine. As long as it doesn't affect your ability to… perform your duties as a victor, I encourage you to explore your interests."

I gape at him. "Really?" I ask, and then bite my tongue.

He nods.

"I don't have any intention of lying to you. This mutual agreement of ours would benefit from your trust." For some reason, I believe him. The song ends and he lets go of my wrist. I flex it. "Well this is farewell for now. I will contact you at some time in the future. Enjoy your evening, Miss Everdeen. This is all for you. You'll find that I can be very _generous_ if you don't give me reason not to be."

I bow in the formal capitol farewell style, and head over to the food tables. I don't want anything from Snow, but I seem to be on his good side for the moment. It'd be stupid to mess that up. _Keep your friends close… and your enemies closer._

I don't realize that there's someone behind me until I hear the crunch of food in my ear. I spin around and find myself face to face with none other than Finnick Odair.

"Hello again," I say, sounding a little exasperated. I need to be at my best and he tends to make me flustered.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" Finnick fakes hurt, pouting. I notice how different he is – his posture and even his voice are completely contrasting to how he was back in Four. Well, two can play that game. I drape my arm over his shoulder and lean into him.

"_The_ Finnick Odair? You think I wouldn't be happy to see you? Anyone with two working eyes is more than pleased to be in your presence." I bite my lip and twirl a lock of hair around my version of me is good at talking to boys. The old Katniss didn't care.

"I could say the same about you." Finnick flirts, his voice like liquid amber. I suddenly understand all the attention he gets. "Care to dance?"

"I'd love to." I purr. He looks amused. I'm not sure if we're pretending for everyone else's sake or for our own. It's probably a bit of both. All eyes are on us as we walk arm and arm. Finnick is a fabulous dancer and I'm surprisingly not terrible. I can see the tabloid covers already, calling us Panem's hottest couple. The prospect of it isn't all that terrible. This is the attention that Snow wants me to have.

The dance styles in the Capitol vary from place to place. But the crowd that President Snow invites isn't the type to grind in sweaty nightclubs. The most famous artists play the music here and the dancing is expected to be just as elegant. Finnick takes the lead and I find myself not minding. Usually his cocky assertiveness makes me want to knock him down a peg. But in front of all these people, and with my terrible dancing skills, I have no problem being twirled like a doll. Having Finnick take the lead is one less thing for me to worry about.

Dancing may look effortless, but it's actually very difficult. I try to keep rhythm in my head like Effie taught me, but I lose track and misstep a few times. _One, two, three. One, two, three. Or should I be counting to four?_ The violins seem to be getting faster and I can't keep up. Luckily, the song is over soon enough and I take a break for some sweets. Haymitch, in his usual hypocritical fashion, told me to lay off the drinking for tonight. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Concentrating is hard when my head is buzzing.

I take a break to use the restroom and find Cashmere inside. She's hunched over the toilet bowl, heaving. I lock the door and rush to hold her hair back, as I used to when Prim would catch a stomach bug. I help her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

She sniffles. Her eye makeup has streaked a little down her right cheek, and her blue eyes look bloodshot. She dabs at it with a tissue.

"I've just had a bit too much," Cashmere explains. Instead of clarifying, her response just leaves me with more questions.

"Do you want me to get you water? Or your brother?" I assume he's here too.

She shakes her head. "Can you just stay here with me?"

I sit down on the plush sofa – something completely unnecessary for a bathroom. On a counter, there's a large basket filled with all sorts of hygiene related-products. I sort through them. Some things I recognize: tissues, bandages, painkillers and some makeup products. Other's I've never seen before in my life. I hold up a small pink vial and show it to Cashmere, quizzically.

"It's a _thing_ they do here," she explains, "you drink it and it makes you empty your stomach so you can have more food?"

"Is that was you were doing?" I blurt out. _Not the right thing to ask_. It seems like an oddly private question. Then again, if it's so common to place next to wipes and lotion, maybe everyone in the Capitol does it.

"Gosh no." She moves over to the mirror and readjusts her skirt. "I had to take it once. They use it in the hospitals back home if you eat something poisonous. I was growing plants in my garden and apparently one variety of leaves is deadly. It's a miracle nobody was hurt."

"Oh."

"So, have you had to… _you know…_?" Cashmere asks. The way she asks me reminds me of how Madge and I would discuss her various crushes.

"Not yet." I scoot slightly away from her. For one reason or another, she decided to sit right next to me.

"Well, you should get back out there, I think. I'm in Apartment 30 in our building. You should stop by if you wanna chat or anything. _Really_, I'm here for you." I have a feeling that she'll mentor me in a way I know Haymitch never could.

"Thanks." I stand up to leave.

"Oh and Katniss? Be brave."

The party winds down an hour or two later. Effie makes sure I get in the car to head back to the apartments, but takes her own transportation home. I wonder if she has any loved ones in the Capitol. I think escorts travel too much for that.

I come to my apartment to find all the lights in the main room on. On the table in the dining room is a large bouquet of roses. At first, I'm flattered. Then, the artificial scent of them hits me. _Snow._ I rush over there, and open up the card on top of the white and yellow flowers.

_3.00 pm. A cab will be waiting out front, for your convenience._

_Don't disappoint._

_-CS_

I don't realize my hands are shaking until I look at them to put the card down. In his usual fashion, Haymitch is nowhere to be seen. My chest feels too tight and the room is too hot. I run out onto one of the terraces, trying to catch my breath. My head is spinning. I take off my dress and tight fitting garments. They're too constricting. It seems like a good idea to stick my head under the cold shower.

That's how Finnick finds me. I'm half-naked and shivering with mascara streamed down my cheeks.

"Hey Katniss?" he asks, face completely changing when he sees me. "Are you alright?" He doesn't wait for me to respond. Before I know it I'm wrapped up in a plush towel and being sat down on the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea in my hands.

"What happened?" he asks me. I point my toe at the roses on the table. "Snow?"

I nod, and take a sip of the tea. It's really good. "So what are you doing here, exactly?" I'm grateful for his help but vaguely confused.

"Haymitch was out drinking, as usual, and he called me to check in on you. Make sure you're settling in okay. Your door was unlocked and I saw myself in."

"Oh."

The silence that follows is awkward. I eventually get up and put on some shorts and a tank top, forgoing my soaking wet bra. I try to untangle my damp hair and eventually give up, putting the knotted mess into a messy bun. I walk back outside and wrap myself in a large throw blanket.

Finnick's made himself at home. I find that I don't mind. He's sitting cross-legged on the couch – shoes and jacket folded neatly on the rug in front of him. He has a plate of cheese, crackers and dip and a glass of wine poured into a circular cup. I sit down next to him and take a few things off his plate.

"You're gonna be alright, you know that. Right?" Finnick tries to comfort me.

"I have a hard time believing that."

He sighs. "It's like the Games in that sense. You're not gonna be the same. Nothing is ever really the same. But you learn to adjust, and life goes on."

"You're pretty terrible at comforting people."

"But I made you smile." He points out, tapping my nose with his finger. I actually laugh that time. I take another chip and dip it in the spicy green sauce. It looks unpleasant but it's actually really good. I let out a little moan and he looks at me, amused.

"What?" I ask.

Finnick points at my face. "You have a…" He takes the pad of his thumb and brushes it against my lip. Our eyes lock.

And that's when he kisses me.


End file.
